


The Middle of Nowhere

by everystareverywhere



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Movie crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1431307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everystareverywhere/pseuds/everystareverywhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathon Smith buys a house. Rose Tyler sold a house. Little did they know it was the same house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the movie The Lake House with Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock. I was inspired to write it after I found this video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ix_T8xITdtY) on YouTube. If you don’t know the story, this video will help explain what will happen.

_Dear Readers,_  
  
My name is Rose Tyler and this is the story of how I fell in love.   
  
If you’re still reading, good. This is a good story. If you’re looking for action and gore, you might want to skip this, though. This is more about faith and hope. And, above all else, love.   
  
I know many people will tell you that faith makes all things possible, and I do believe that but to an extent. To me, love makes all things possible. It’s the evidence of the things not seen; the force that keeps us going. It makes the wise stupid and the ordinary extraordinary. I’ve always believed that throughout the course of your lifetime, all you’ll want to do is stay in the background, be invisible. Until you meet that one person who makes you want to be different.   
  
Jonathon made me want to be different. And I was. And so was he. Just not for the reasons you may think.   
  
This is the story of how I met Jonathon Smith. And it was not in the usual sense; we didn’t meet at a bar, or through family or friends. Since we have a ten year age gap, we most certainly did not meet through school. We met through a house. Theblue house, to be precise.   
  
The story I’m about to tell is completely true and completely mad. It really happened to me. I met the most wonderful man in the world.   
  
Only he was three years behind my current timeline.   
  
This is where things get complicated. 


	2. Chapter 2

When Rose Tyler was nineteen, her family bought a house in Canvey Island. Her parents, Pete and Jackie Tyler, bought the two bedroom house just off the water. It was a lovely house, to be sure. It was just over 800 square feet, everything on one floor. A small but cozy living room, one narrow bathroom, a sizable kitchen, and two bedrooms. Rose herself loved the house. She could run out the backdoor and go into the lake that was just down the hill a bit. Her mother called this house “The Lake House” because of how close it was to the water.   
  
Pete wasn’t crazy about the color though. “Who paints a house a navy blue?” he would often ask his wife, wondering about the tenants before them. His wife never had an answer for him.   
  
Rose was most certain that this was the house she was going to grow old in. And she would have, if her father didn’t die suddenly two years later. A hit and run. Jackie was devastated. Rose broke down completely. Everything from that moment on changed for both mother and daughter. They had to pick up the pieces of their now broken life and continue on.   
  
There was no way they could afford the house, not with just Jackie’s salary. And though Rose had a small job, it just wasn’t enough. So they moved back to London, where Jackie had heard from a friend that there was a new apartment complex opening called the Powell Estate. Seeing how it was pretty much all Jackie and Rose could afford, after selling the house, they bought a two bedroom apartment, with a tiny living room and an even smaller kitchen. But for the two of them, they were okay. Not happy, not depressed, just okay.   
  
However, Rose would often think about that lovely lake house, about how much she just loved the smell of salt in the air and the feel of the sand between her toes. And since the house was less than an hour away, Rose could visit it all she wanted. Not that she often did.   
  
She wanted to, though. But she never really got the courage or the nerve to actually drive back out to see the house. Right before she left, though, she wrote a note for the new occupant. Something short and sweet, and to the point.   
  
 _Dear New Tenant,_  she wrote.  _Welcome to your new home. I hope you enjoy living here as much as I did. I filled out a change of an address with the post office, but they are not the most reliable of people, so if any mail comes for either me (Rose Tyler) or my mother (Jackie Tyler), our new address is attached. If you could be so kind as to pass it along.  
  
This place was my home. The best place in the world. My parents never knew this, but if you go into the second bedroom–the one off of the kitchen–and look up there is a small piece of string hanging from the ceiling. It’s the smallest attic you will ever find. I took everything out (except one box; it was there when we moved in), but good luck getting things in there. It is a tight space.   
  
Please take care of this house. It means everything to me. I know you don’t know who I am, but just…take care of it for me. Please?   
  
Thank you.   
  
Rose.   
  
P.S.-I have no idea where those paw prints came from. The ones on the walkway leading away from the door. My mum and I tried everything to get them out, but no luck. Sorry. _  
  
Rose often thought of the house, and though she only lived there for two years, they were the best two years of her life. She was very sorry to have to leave. Perhaps in the future she would get enough money to move in herself.   
  
One day, though, months after they moved out, on an impulse Rose decided to drive to the house, just to see how it was doing. The drive itself was uneventful, but her heart was pounding the whole way. The bank bought the house, so she wasn’t sure if anyone lived there now. She hoped not. She didn’t want to become a creepier, peeking into windows and slowly walking around the property. But when she pulled up to the house, there was no car in the driveway, or anywhere near the house. The building itself was alone, the nearest neighbor about a half a mile to the left. Otherwise, no one was near the house, not in terms of neighbor or in terms of tenants. Or, at least, no one was there now. It was twelve o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, so it’s possible that the people who live there were out for the day.   
  
For reasons that were unclear to Rose, she got out of the car anyway, after turning off the engine, and looked around. The house still looked the same. The dark navy blue paint, two huge windows in the front, a stained-glass window in the white wooden door, the paw prints leading away from the door. Everything was just how she left it. Even the white mailbox still had his little flag up, noting to the tenant that they had mail. She walked over to it, wondering briefly if anyone did live in the house. She opened it and noted that there was only one piece of paper inside of it. Her letter, she was sure. But when she checked, it was most certainly a letter, but not her letter. The odd part, however, was that it was addressed to her.   
  
Her first name was clearly written on the white envelope, but it wasn’t in her handwriting. This was much smaller and more slanted than her handwriting. She looked around, wondering who would have taken a letter out of the mailbox and decided to respond to her note. It was extremely strange, since no one lived nearby. At least, not unless they wanted to walk half-a-mile only to read other people’s mail.   
  
Very confused, yet intrigued, Rose opened the envelope and unfolded the note.   
  
 _Rose-  
I think there must be some kind of misunderstanding. I was told that this house has been empty for several years. Maybe your note was intended for the house down the road a bit.   
  
Thank you for your letter, though. If your note was intended for this house, I will take great care of it. The house, I mean. Not the note. I’ll even give it a fresh coat of paint, since the paint now is chipping in places. Again, the house, not the note. _  
  
Rose looked up at the house. It wasn’t chipping. It still looked good, considering that her father never actually got around to painting it himself, so the paint job was at least three years old. Otherwise it did not need any work of any kind. Even more intrigued, Rose continued.   
  
 _The yellow paint is not really doing it for me, so I’m going to paint it a different color. Blue, perhaps. A blue house. I hope you would like that._  
  
Okay, what was going on? Yellow? She never lived in a yellow house. It had always been blue.   
  
 _One more thing — well, two actually. I don’t understand your comment about the paw prints. There aren’t any. There are no paw prints leading away from the door. The same goes for the box in the attic. There’s an attic, but no box._  
  
-Jonathon  
  
Rose looked at the note and then back at the house. Then back down at the note. It didn’t make any sense. Shaking her head, she took the note back to her car and drove off.   
  
~*~   
  
The note interested Rose more than she cared to admit. Though she didn’t tell her mother about it, she did want to tell someone. And besides her mother, there was only one other person she could actually talk to: her best friend, Amelia “Amy” Pond.   
  
Amy and Rose were similar in some ways, but very different in others. Their similarities included (but were not limited to) there choices in men, their attitudes, and their sense of adventures. However, their differences were much greater, even if only in appearance. Rose was about 5’5”, while Amy was 5’11”. Rose had short blonde hair, an oval face, a flat nose, big hazel eyes, and full lips. Amy had a round face, a bit of a pointy nose, green eyes, and much thinner lips. Also, Amy was Scottish while Rose was from cheery old England.   
  
Amy moved to London with her aunt when she was just a child. They attended the same school. However, when Rose dropped out of school to support her then boyfriend (and now dickhead) Jimmy Stones, Amy continued on to get her A levels and met her now fiancé, Rory Williams. Rory was, for all intents and purposes, the perfect man. He was the same height as Amy, had an oval face, sandy-blonde hair, green eyes, a very pointy nose, and a distinct jawbone. He was also a complete gentleman. He loved Amy fully and though it took her a bit of time to actually accept his proposal of marriage, she eventually did and had been so very happy with her decision.   
  
Rose wasn’t jealous of Amy and Rory, by all means no. She liked Rory, immensely, but she liked him like a brother. He was perfect for Amy. She was, however, jealous of their relationship. She wanted a love like they had, a love so true and fierce that a person knew, simply by looking at them that they would stay together through it all. Jackie told Amy and Rory when they announced their engagement that “Marriage means together, or not at all.” They seemed to have taken that bit of advice to heart and have become almost inseparable.   
  
And Rose loved hearing about Amy and Rory’s wedding plans. Really, she did. She just wished that she had someone she could hold hands with and smile at because watching Amy and Rory doing those actions was getting quite sickening. Maybe if she had someone, it would be less so.   
  
One thing Rose knew for certain, however, was that Amy would love to hear about this note that Rose had received earlier. It was just the strange and odd thing that was right up Amy’s alley. So, the next day when both Amy (who worked at the local bookshop) and Rose (who worked at the local department store) got off for their lunch break, they met at the huge statue on Piccadilly Circus and sat down, ready to enjoy their sandwiches and read the mysterious note.   
  
“This is extremely weird,” Amy said as she read the note again for the third time. Rose had looked at it continuously throughout the night, and now the paper was starting to wrinkle and the places where it was folded were getting looser. But Amy held it tight in her hands, making sure the wind didn’t pick it up. “And this was in your, I mean the mailbox? At the house?”   
  
“Yeah.” Rose took of sip of her soda. “But don’t you think it’s odd that he commented about the color of the house. I mean, it wasn’t yellow. It was blue. It was distinctly blue. Not at all yellow.”   
  
Amy nodded before handing the note back to her Rose who folded it up and put it in her purse that she had slung across her chest. “It is weird. And the paw prints. What does he mean there aren’t any paw prints? Were their paw prints when you went?”   
  
“Yeah,” Rose said again. “Just like there had always been. And he said the box was gone.”   
  
“What box?”   
  
“The box in the attic. I told you about that.”  
  
“Oh, yes, you did.” She paused before grinning. “Did you ever look in the box?”   
Rose shook her head. “No. I wanted to, but I didn’t want to invade someone’s privacy.”   
  
Amy snorted. “I would have looked.”   
  
Rose gave a laugh. “You would have,” Rose agreed, “yeah.”   
  
After a moment, Amy asked, “Are you going to write back?”   
  
“And say what?”   
  
She thought about it for a moment. Finally, Amy said, “You could write, ‘Look you ninny, there are paw prints on the ground. Maybe you should look down every once in a while! Ditto for the box in the attic.’ Also, you could write, ‘I am writing this note for you, not the house down the street! And it’s blue, not yellow!’” Amy gave a laugh. “You should write that! Word for word!”   
  
Rose laughed along. “Hold on, let me get my pen and paper.” She pulled her bag onto her lap and opened it up, rifling through it. It was then that she heard it. The most terrible sound in the world. The sound of brakes squeaking, horns blasting, and something smashing.   
  
“Oh my God!” Amy shouted as she stood up. Rose looked up at her and noticed the direction of her gaze. She was looking at the intersection of Coventry Street and A4. A bus smashed into a van but what made Rose’s heart stop when was she heard someone yell, “Someone was hit! The van hit someone!”   
  
Amy took off before Rose even got up. By the time Rose got to Amy, who was still standing on the sidewalk, there was a crowd of people circling the area and the local police were telling people to back up. Rose couldn’t see the person who was hit, only the bottom of their sneakers. Still, seeing how this was how her father was killed, Rose’s heart went out to the person’s family. This was a terrible way for a life to end.   
  
The police on the scene were telling people to move back, to let the ambulances through. People were screaming; a woman was crying across from Rose. Rose briefly wondered if she was just empathetic or if she knew the person. For reasons unknown to her, Rose’s own eyes filled with tears, but she quickly brushed them away.   
  
Amy gently grabbed Rose’s upper arm. “Come on,” she urged. “We have to get back to our jobs.”   
  
Rose nodded and turned around, leaving the area. “Are you alright?” Amy asked, handing her a tissue.   
  
Rose took it and blew her nose. “Yeah, I’m fine. Really. You know I’m a sympathetic crier.”   
  
“More like a wuss,” Amy joked. Rose would have taken offense to that if she didn’t see Amy very quickly wipe a tear from her own eye as well.   
  
Taking a deep breath, Rose said, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”   
  
Amy nodded. “Yep. Maybe Rory will know about that person over there,” she said with a nod back to the intersection where ambulances were now loading the person onto the van. Rory was a nurse at the local hospital. It was extremely possible that he would have information. Even if he doesn’t treat the person himself, Rory has said many times that the nurses were the biggest gossips he had ever met. He would know something. Rose was sure of it.   
  
~*~   
  
Amy called Rose later that night. “He didn’t make it,” Amy said instead of a typical greeting. “Rory said he didn’t even make it to the hospital. The man, I mean. If eyewitnesses are anything to go by, the man just ran out into the street. The van was running a red light, so the bus had the right of way. The man mustn’t have seen the can’t walk signal and neither of the vehicles could stop in time.”   
  
“What did the man die of?”   
  
Amy gave a sad chuckle. “You name it, he died of it. He was hit by a moving vehicle, Rose. The poor man didn’t stand a chance.”   
  
“Did Rory get the man’s name?”   
  
Amy paused. “He did, but I can’t remember it. It was a common name. Jack or Michael or John, something like that. A very common name.” She sighed. “Anyway, on a lighter topic, are you going to write a message back?”   
  
Rose smiled. “Yeah, I am. I’m not exactly sure what I’ll write, but I’ll think of something. It’s just strange, isn’t it?”   
  
“Strange doesn’t cover it. I was telling Rory about it. He said he thinks it’s a prank. I don’t understand how it can be, but he believes that some neighbor kids are pulling your leg.”   
  
“I don’t know. I mean, why would kids do this? And lie about the paint color? Are they that bored?”   
  
“Who knows? We did stupid things too, when we were younger.”   
  
“Yeah, but…I don’t know. I feel like there is something else going on here.”   
  
Rose could see Amy giving a half shrug. “Write back. That’s what I would do.”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“Tell me what you wrote tomorrow, ‘kay? I have to go now. Rory just made dinner. I think he burnt it though.” She sighed. “I guess he can’t be completely perfect.”   
  
“Bye,” Rose said with a laugh before hanging up.   
  
She pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from her nightstand and the note this Jonathon bloke wrote to her. She tapped her pen against her lip, trying to figure out what exactly she should say in response.   
  
After a few failed attempts, Rose was finally satisfied with her letter and put it into an envelope before writing Jonathon’s name across it. Placing it into her purse, she hoped that she could get to the house before the end of the week. She didn’t have to be in at work until tomorrow afternoon, so maybe she could drive out and put it in his mailbox in the morning. It seemed ridiculous to drive all the way out there for a letter, but on the other hand, Rose really wanted to know what this man was going on about. The whole situation was confusing and frustrating, but at the same time incredibly interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

_Dear Jonathon,  
  
I know the house that you are talking about (since it is the only house near this one) and I can guarantee you that I have never lived there. My parents are a bit old-fashioned and they did not believe that a lake house should be bigger than 2,000 square feet.  
  
So, let me try again.   
  
I used to live in this house, with my parents, but we moved only a couple of months ago. We moved out in March of 2013. And since it is only July, it has been a little over ofour months since we left. I don’t know who your sources are, but they are obviously wrong.   
  
Rose _  
  
“2013?”   
  
Jonathon Smith lowered the letter he had received in his mailbox earlier that day. He looked around confused. “What is she going on about? First the paw prints, then the box, and now the date? What is she talking about?” he muttered to himself as he walked up the cement sidewalk to his house. His house. His beautiful, not yet blue but getting there, house.   
  
He opened the door and went to get his paint supplies. As he changed into raggedy clothing, his mind kept thinking about the letter. Well, letters at this point. Both letters were confusing and not exactly clear on certain topics. Like these paw prints. Or this box in the attic–which he checked three times and no such box was up there; but she was right about one thing: that was a tiny, tiny area. However, what was with this year thing? Why would she write that it was 2013? It was 2010. Why would she jump three years into the future?   
  
Jonathon grabbed a roller, some drop cloths, a pan, and of course his blue paint. It was really a beautiful color. He was quite proud of himself for picking it out. His ex-wife, Reinette Poisson, would say he had no taste whatsoever, but he didn’t actually believe that. He didn’t actually believe a lot of what she said to him, which was why he divorced her. And then moved to the middle of nowhere.   
  
Donna Noble, his best friend, thought he was completely nuts for leaving his luxury apartment in London, but he just needed to get away from all the plastics that were controlling his life. His ex-wife and his now ex-coworker, Harry Saxon, were probably enjoying Jonathon’s money. He knew he should have been angry–furious even–at Harry and Reinette for shacking up together behind his back, but he wasn’t. He just felt…blah. Like he knew it was coming, it was just a matter of time.   
  
Donna claims she knew Reinette was trouble right from the start. And Jonathon knew that to be true. Donna was not one for holding back her thoughts, especially when she thought her best friend was getting cheated. Jack Harkness, another friend of Jonathon’s, said he held his tongue, but he was never in favor of Reinette either. Jonathon would have liked to have known this information before he slipped a ring on her finger, not after.   
  
It didn’t matter now. Now Reinette and Harry were living high off of Jonathon’s hard-earned cash and he was off to the country side to stretch his legs, so to speak. Just clear his mind from all the nonsense that was happening back in London. He had his cell phone with him, so if anything happened, Donna or Jack would contact him. He asked though that they keep it limited, which they both have. Well, Donna more than Jack. The latter liked to send him stupid photos or jokes that he found online, but since he has always done that, Jonathon didn’t think much of it.   
  
Jonathon poured some paint into the pan and dipped the roller into it. He started putting it onto the walls, smiling because the color was really brilliant, when out of nowhere a dog appeared. It was a golden retriever; a huge dog really. He was surprised he didn’t see it before. “Hello,” he said with a smile. “Where did you come from, huh? Where are your owners?”   
  
Instead of barking, the dog walked closer to him. Right into the pan of paint. “No!” Jonathon shouted, but it was too late. All four paws had paint on them. The dog then trotted down the sidewalk, away from the door, happy as you please. Jonathon groaned, wondering how he was going to get that out when he suddenly remembered. The paw prints.  _The paw prints!_  These were the paw prints that Rose was talking about!   
  
Jonathon stared at them, sure that he looked like a loony bin, but he didn’t care. These were the paw prints Rose told him about. The ones that hadn’t been there when he received the letter. But they were there when Rose wrote that letter.   
  
Just what exactly was going on?   
  
This he had to tell Donna and Jack about. So, placing his roller down gently, Jonathon ran inside to get his cell phone. Two text messages later, he was pacing up and down the walkway, looking at the paw prints. These had to be the ones that Rose was talking about. But she wrote that she moved out in 2013 when it was 2010.   
  
Jonathon rubbed his head, trying to keep his headache at bay when both Donna and Jack responded back at the same time. They could meet up that night, no problem. Jack commented that he had been waiting for an invite to the house; he couldn’t wait to see it. Jonathon wanted to wait a bit before he invited people over, wait till he was a settled, but this was just too strange. He had to have them see this for themselves.   
  
Donna, in her typical fashion, complained the moment she set foot on his property. “Oi! Spaceman! Did you have to buy a house in the middle of bloody nowhere? I had to turn around about three times!” She handed him a bottle of wine and kissed him on the cheek. Much softer, she commented, “It does look good, though.”   
  
He grinned. “Thanks, Donna. Jack’s on his way.”   
  
If he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn she blushed. “Oh, is he? That’s nice.” She fixed her jacket before asking, “Well, can I go in?”   
  
Extending his arm out, he pointed to the door. With a nod, she walked by him, her nose in the air. He knew, however, that this was all an act. Donna, for as loud and blusterous as she gets, was not as arrogant as she let on. Her self-esteem was minuet at best; it certainly took a hit last year when her fiancé left her at the altar. She picked up the pieces, because that’s what Donna does best. Keeps going, even when everything around her is falling to bits. Things got even worse when after her disastrous wedding, her father became ill and died suddenly, she lost her job, and had to move back home with her mother and grandfather. Donna was humiliated, to say the least, but she did have her loving grandfather to console her when Donna’s mother said something that could not be easily push aside. Which seemed to be all the time, actually.   
  
Sylvia Noble was a nice woman, but she complained about everything, mostly her daughter. Jonathon knew that Donna worked hard, but whereas Jonathon was book smart, Donna was street smart. When she put her mind to it, she could have easily passed all of her A levels, no problem. But Donna gets bored, and then she gets lazy.   
  
Jonathon met Donna through Harry Saxon, actually. Saxon was a fellow colleague at King’s College London, where Jonathon was teaching physics and astronomy, but the latter only in the spring semester. Saxon’s (now) ex-wife Lucy somehow knew Donna, though Jonathon never figured out how. They all met up one night for drinks and Jonathon and Donna got along right from the start. They spent the whole night laughing and joking, just getting along really, really well. Somehow they knew they would never work as a couple, but mates was fine. More than fine, really.   
  
Someone once commented that Jonathon and Donna looked like brother and sister, but they certainly didn’t think so. For one thing, Jonathon had brown hair that was always sticking up, whereas Donna had long red hair. Donna was 5’10 and had an oval face, a pert nose, and bluish-green eyes. Jonathon stood a little over six feet, had more of a square face, a long nose, and big brown eyes. Donna, however, often commented that Jonathon was a “long streak of nothingness” since he was so thin. He preferred the term “lean.”   
  
Jonathon asked Donna if she wanted anything to drink, when she insisted he open the bottle of wine. As he was looking for his corkscrew, Donna yelled that Jack had arrived.   
  
Jack Harkness was Jonathon’s friend from college. Jonathon decided to study in the states and Jack was his roommate. Thanks to Jack, Jonathon couldn’t remember half of his semesters at Brown University, though they both always made the Dean’s List.   
  
Jack had more of the Hollywood looks, with the dark black hair, big blue eyes, and the kind of face that looks like it was carved out of stone. Perfect nose, cheekbones, even his smile was drop-dead gorgeous. The worst part of it all was that he knew how handsome he was and flirted with everyone. Jack didn’t really care about sexual orientation, and that made for some interesting nights in the dorms. Jonathon lost count the number of times he accidentally walked in on Jack when he was…er…entertaining. He wasn’t sure how many times it was men he was with, or women. Jack really didn’t seem to care, and before long, Jonathon didn’t either. Well, Jonathon was straight as straight could be, but he didn’t care who Jack had for company, just as long as they took all their things with them when they left.   
  
Donna let Jack in, and he gave her a kiss on the cheek which made her blush. “How’s my favorite ginger?” he said, his American accent clear as a bell.   
  
“Fine, Jack, how are you?”   
  
“All’s dandy with me, Sweetcheeks. Where’s our host?”   
  
“In the kitchen. He’s pouring wine, you want?”   
  
“Love some.” With a much louder voice, Jack voiced, “I want wine too, Sweetcheeks!”   
  
Jonathon came in holding three glasses of red wine. “Yeah, I figured. Already poured you a glass.”   
  
Once settled and small talk was done, Jack leaned back and asked, “Okay, Mystery Man, what was so top secret that you couldn’t tell me over the phone?”   
  
“It’s not top secret,” Jonathon commented as he crossed his legs. “It’s just…odd.”   
  
“What is?” Donna asked.   
  
He took the two letters he got from Rose and handed them Donna and Jack, who were both sitting on the couch. “I got the first one when I moved in. The second one I got this morning.”   
  
After both letters were read, Jack asked, “I don’t see what the problem is.”   
  
“The problem is that until this morning, there were no paw prints.”   
  
They looked at Jonathon like he grew another head. “What?” Donna finally asked.   
  
“When I first read that note, there were no paw prints on the ground. None. And that box that she mentions? Yeah, it’s not there. There’s nothing in that attic. I checked, it’s definitely that room she’s talking about. And I checked that room three times, and nothing. No box.”   
  
“Is it behind a pole or something?” Donna asked as Jack wordless pulled one of the notes out of Donna’s hand and read it again.   
  
“No pole, no nothing. Nothing is blocking the view, because the area is so small.”   
  
“But you said until this morning there were no paw prints. Now there is?” Jack asked.   
  
“Yeah. I was painting outside when a dog came out of nowhere and ran right through the paint. And it’s exactly how she described: paw prints leading away from the door.” He leaned forward. “But don’t you think it’s odd about the date?”   
  
“Yeah, I just noticed that,” Jack said. “‘March of 2013.’ Why would she write that?”   
  
“I don’t know. But it’s clearly ‘2013.’”   
  
“Maybe she just wrote the wrong year?” Donna wondered.   
  
“I know people do that in January that they keep writing the previous year, but in July?”   
  
“Yeah, that doesn’t make any sense,” Jack said as he passed the notes back to Donna.   
  
“What are you going to do?” Donna asked.   
  
“What do you mean?”   
  
“Are you going to write back? Or are you going to just ignore them?”   
  
Jonathon sighed. “I’ll be honest with you, I kind of want to write back. I mean, this is confusing, no doubt about that, but…” he paused, trying to figure out what specifically he was trying to say. “It also fascinating. I’ve never seen this girl. I know she lives in London, in the Powell Estate–”  
  
“The what?” Jack asked.   
  
“The Powell Estate.”   
  
Jack looked confused. “I’ve never heard of it.”   
  
“It’s an apartment complex, I think. Here let me show you the address she gave me.” Jonathon handed over the other piece of paper. Jack took it first and read it.   
  
“This is definitely the address of an apartment complex, but Powell Estate…?” Jack stopped talking for a moment. “I’ve never heard of it.”   
  
“Oh, and you have heard of every apartment complex in London?” Donna asked sarcastically.   
  
“Most of them, yeah” was Jack’s response. Jack was very hush-hush about it was that he did for a living. Jonathon has questioned him, of course, and Donna even more so, but he always remained tight lip about it. Jonathon and Donna have come to believe that he’s a spy or at the very least he works for the government.   
  
“Has any mail come for her?” Donna asked.   
  
“Actually, yeah, something did.” Jonathon stood up and went to the bowl he kept near the door. He put on his black rimmed glasses as he looked at the envelope. “Well, it’s for Pete Tyler, but since that’s the same last name, I figured that it was for the same household.”  
  
“She didn’t mention a Pete in the letters,” Donna noted.   
  
Jonathon walked back to his seat. “Well, I’m sure that it’s for the same family. I’ll forward it tomorrow.”   
  
“Let’s go check it out,” Jack said suddenly, standing up.   
  
Donna and Jonathon looked up at him. “What? Now?” Jonathon asked,   
  
“Why not? It’s still early. It’s only about an hour drive and it’s only–” he looked at his watch, “eight fifteen. Let’s drop it off. Meet this Rose Tyler and ask her, face-to-face, how she knew about the paw prints, what box is she talking about, and why did she write 2013 in her letter and not 2010.”   
  
Donna and Jonathon looked at each other. Without saying a word, they were communicating, the way only best friends can. Finally Jonathon said, “Alright, fine. Let me get my car keys.”   
  
They decided to take one car, figuring that they would all go back to Jonathon’s for dinner, or at least something to nibble on. Besides, Jonathon didn’t give them the full tour, and he really did want to show off his new place.   
  
The drive itself was uneventful. When they got closer to the area, Jack–who was in the back–leaned forward and read off the address again. “I think you make a left here,” he instructed Jonathon, who was driving.   
  
He did so. Jack gave a few more directions, but they seemed to going around in circles. Finally, Donna said, “Look, let’s just get out and look for it. It’s an apartment complex! It can’t be that bloody hard to find!”   
  
Jonathon parked his car and the three of them got out, looking around. Jonathon was the first one to notice it and when he did he stopped walking. “The Powell Estate,” he muttered.   
  
“Where?” Donna asked, looking around.   
  
“There,” he pointed straight in front of him and then walked over to what had caught his attention. What the three of them were looking for was a building. However, what they found was a construction site with a huge sign that read: COMING SOON! POWELL ESTATE APARTMENT COMPLEX! BUY YOUR APARTMENT TODAY!   
  
“You are kidding me…” Donna muttered as they walked closer.  
  
There was no denying it. They couldn’t find the apartment because it wasn’t in existence yet. The date read that it planned on opening early in 2012. But Rose clearly wrote Powell Estate on her note.   
  
“Do you think we should ring the bell?” Jack asked as he walked closer to them. The two of them looked at him as he pretended to ring a doorbell. “Buzz, buzz.”   
  
“Not funny,” Jonathon said looking back at the site. None of this was making any sense. Why would Rose write to him and tell him to forward her mail to a place that doesn’t exist. And why did she write the wrong date?   
  
Perhaps Jonathon should write back to Rose.   
  
~*~   
  
 _Dear Rose,  
  
I went to your apartment last night. Well, I should say I went to where your apartment will be. For you see, the Powell Estate is not there. It’s just a construction site. From the pictures they have plastered all around the area, it looks nice. But not for another two years. It’s suppose to open in the spring of 2012. Two years from now.   
  
What am I missing here?   
  
Maybe you got the address wrong. Because you also got the year wrong. You wrote in your last message that you moved out in March of 2013, but that’s impossible. It’s 2010.   
  
-Jonathon _  
  
Rose looked up. 2010?  
  
She looked around the property of the house. Nothing had changed her first arrival four days ago. She wasn’t sure why exactly she came back to the house, other than she just really missed. And, okay, yes maybe this mysterious pen pal had something to do with it. Okay, that was really why she came back out. This drive wasn’t something that she could do every day, but she had to know what exactly was going on. And it seemed like she got a piece of the puzzle: for him, for Jonathon, it was 2010.   
  
That was three years ago. One year before she moved into this house. Her parents and Rose moved in November 2011 and left March 2013. Jonathon claimed it was 2010. So either he had amnesia, or he really was living in 2010.   
  
“Okay,” Rose muttered as she walked back to her car to get a pencil and paper. “If you are really in 2010, be forewarned.”   
  
She got into her car, and leaving the door open, she turned in her seat and took out a notebook she had and a pen.   
  
 _Okay, my mysterious pen pal,  
  
Just in case you really are in 2010 and am living in the blue house, you’ll need this. We got a terrible rainstorm that lasted two days.   
  
Oh, and the living room ceiling drips a bit. Just put a bucket underneath it. It’ll be fine._  
  
Jonathon took out the latest note and then pulled out a black umbrella.   
  
He looked up at the sky. It was getting darker. Much too dark for five o’clock in the afternoon.   
  
“No way,” he muttered. He heard thunder.   
  
The next morning he woke up to torrential downpour. The bucket in the living room (that he had put there on the off chance that she was correct) had a thin layer of water on the bottom.   
  
The rain didn’t let up until the following evening. Jonathon wrote another letter and placed it in the mailbox. He put the little flag up when he noticed something coming towards him.   
  
It was the golden retriever that he saw the day he was painting. It came over to him and was panting gently as Jonathon bent down to rubbed its ears. “I see the paint is all gone,” he said, looking at the paws. He looked back at the walkway. “Wish I could say the same about that paint.”   
  
He shook his head before walking back towards the house. He heard a squeak and looked behind him. The flag on the mailbox was down. Arching an eyebrow, Jonathon went to look at it closer. It was indeed down, as though someone pushed it down. When he opened it up, nothing was inside.   
  
Meanwhile, Rose read his latest note. It only contained four words.   
  
 _Can this be happening?_  
  
Rose smiled before running back to her car to get a pen. When she wrote her message on the same piece of paper, she placed it in the mailbox and lifted the flag.   
  
On Jonathon’s side, the flag rose by itself. He stepped back in shock. When he opened the door, there was a note inside. Carefully he took it out and read it.   
  
 _Why not?_

 


	4. Chapter 4

Rose was walking back to her car when she heard barking behind her. A dog was sitting near the mailbox, its tongue hanging out, its tail wagging.   
  
“Hello, you beautiful boy,” she said as she got closer to it. It barked happily as she came near and closed its eyes as she pet it. There was a collar around its neck. “What’s your name?” She laughed. “K-9. Well, your owner really doesn’t have much of an imagination, now do they?” She looked at the address. It was the house. The one right in front of her. “Well now, you must have an owner, huh? One that lives here, obviously.”   
  
She gave it another pat and stood up. That’s when it happened: the flag on the mailbox went down and then a moment later shot upwards. Looking down in shock, she gently touched it before bringing her hand quickly back into her body. She was reaching out towards it as though it should have been burning hot. But it wasn’t. It was an ordinary mailbox delivering extraordinary messages.   
  
Rose looked below it, wondering if there was a piece of string or something pulling it up and down. Nothing. There was nothing attached to the box.   
  
She opened it up and quickly took a step back. Nothing came out, nothing attacked her. Reaching her hand slowly inside, she took out the letter and read it.   
  
 _Impossible.  
But it’s happening._  
  
Rose looked around. No one was around. Yet someone wrote her this message and delivered it right in front of her. She was standing right in front of the mailbox; there was no way someone could get around her without her seeing them. Or them bucking into her.   
  
She got a notebook she happened to have in her car and a pen. It seemed that perhaps she was actually going to have a conversation with this person, this Jonathon bloke. Right now.   
  
*  
Jonathon watched as the flag went up. He put his hand under the mailbox, ready to feel a wire, or a piece of string, or something. But nothing was there. And when he opened the mailbox, the only thing in there was a letter.   
  
 _Where are you?_    
  
Jonathon looked around, dubious. Was she serious? With the pad he had in his hand and a pen, he wrote down his response and placed it in the mailbox. Then he lifted the flag.   
  
*  
  
 _Outside the blue house.  
  
*  
  
What day is it there?   
  
*  
  
1 July 2010. There? _  
  
Rose shook her head. “No,” she muttered. “No, that can’t be.” She yelled louder in case this Jonathon bloke was nearby and could hear her, “As you can see, so am I! Here in front of the house on the first of July. And I’m getting really tired of these games, so I’m going to go now! It’s been fun. Bye!”   
  
She turned and walked back to her car, trying not to feel humiliated. Though she got the key into the ignition, she didn’t start the car. Instead, she sat for a moment thinking about it. No one came out, no one seemed to playing a trick on her.   
  
Maybe this was actually happening. Maybe she really was talking to someone who was currently living three years behind her.   
  
Picking up her pen and pad that she dropped on the seat beside her, she wrote a message, ran back to the mailbox and placed it inside before she lost her nerve. Then she quickly lifted the flag.   
  
*  
  
 _1 July 2013. So it's the same day, three years apart.  
  
Okay, if this is actually happening, perhaps we should formally introduce ourselves.   
  
My name is Rose Tyler. I currently live in London (in the Powell Estate, which I can assure you is actually there). I work in Hendricks, right off of Piccadilly Circus. I hate it, but right now it’s the only job I can get. I never finished getting my A levels for reasons I’d rather not talk about.   
  
You? _  
  
*  
 _My name is Doctor Jonathon Smith. But, please just call me Jonathon.  
  
I’m a professor at King’s College London. I teach physics and sometimes astronomy.  
  
I love looking at the stars. That’s partly why I bought this place. It was so far from the clutter of real life, I felt like I was escaping from it all. I can see why you love it so. I’m falling in love with it as well.   
  
But tell me something. If you are living in London working at Hendricks in 2013, what were you doing in my time? In 2010? _  
  
*  
  
 _Let’s see, three years ago? I was eighteen. I was actually traveling. My boyfriend at that time, Jimmy, was going to be famous and…well, I guess you could call me a groupie. Not that I’m proud to say that now, but I guess that’s what I was. Let’s see, in July of 2010, I think I was in America, but I could be wrong._  
  
*  
  
 _Tell me about the future. What’s it like in 2013?_  
  
*  
  
 _Pretty much the same, I’m afraid.  
  
Except we have grown cats for nurses, flying cars, and no one talks anymore because we can read each other’s minds, but other than that…  
  
But seriously, not much has changed. Some people get married —can’t tell you who, because that could change the flux of the future or whatever. And others have died. Oh, and I bet there are people who even fell in love. Stupid people.   
  
Anyway, I wanted to ask you something. I was thinking about those paw prints. Do you know where they came from? _  
  
*  
  
 _Actually, I do. Now. Right after I received your second letter, I was painting the house blue when a dog came out of nowhere and ran through the paint I had laid out. Then he ran along the walkway.  
  
By the way, I now have a dog. I named it K-9. I thought it was rather clever. Thoughts? _  
  
*  
  
 _I think I found your dog. It was by the mailbox just now. When I noticed it’s name, I commented that the owner must have had a huge imagination. (Note the sarcasm). Nice collar, by the way. (Not sarcastic)._  
*  
  
 _Note to self, buy dog collar. What color is it?_  
  
*  
  
 _Blue. What is it with you and blue? And, another question, why did you pain the house blue? My father used to ask, ‘Why on Earth would anyone want to paint a house a dark blue?!’_  
  
*  
  
 _What’s wrong with blue? It’s a nice color. Has a calming effect.  
  
In all honesty, I bought it because my ex-wife would have hated it. Since I am now free of her, I figured I should get what I wanted, right? _  
  
*  
  
 _Very true. I would comment on how sorry I am about your divorce, but since you wrote ‘now free of her,’ I take it I shouldn’t be that sorry?_  
  
*  
  
 _No. Long story. Maybe I’ll tell you another day. Much like you, I don’t feel like getting into it now._  
  
*  
  
 _Fair enough.  
  
I hate to do this, but I have to go. I’ll come back soon. I promise. _  
  
*  
  
 _I’ll be here._    
  
~*~   
  
Rose ran to the spot where she planned to meet Amy for lunch. It was by the statue where they sat every day enjoying their meal, but today she had a lot to tell her best friend.   
  
Amy was already settled, biting into her sandwich when Rose raced up the few steps. “I talked to him!” she shouted, the papers in her hand waving in the wind.  
  
“What? What do you mean?” Amy put her sandwich on her lap and took the letters.   
  
“He’s in 2010. My blue house man. I am corresponding to a man who is three years behind me.” Rose sat down next to her. “This can’t be happening. There is no way this can happen. But it is!”   
  
“How did you figure this out?” Amy asked as she quickly read his messages to her.   
  
“I went back to the house. It was just so…peculiar. And then that letter about the apartment complex,” Rose paused before continuing. The more she talked, however, the fast she got. “I wrote back to him. Immediately. And then the strangest thing happened. I was walking back to my car when I heard a dog bark, and suddenly there was this dog just sitting there, like it was waiting for me. And the flag on the mailbox went down and a moment later went back up. As though some invisible person stood there and lifted it up and down. When I checked, that letter,” she pointed to the one, “was there.” After a moment, Rose continued. “Oh, and now I have a dog.”   
  
“A dog?” Rose told Amy so much information, this was the only logical thing that stuck out. Amy knew that it seemed ridiculous to focus on the only sane thing, but she couldn’t help it.   
  
“Yeah. It’s name is K-9.”   
  
“K-9?”   
  
Rose shrugged. “He named it. Jonathon.”   
  
Amy held up the papers. “Your pen pal?” When Rose nodded, Amy lowered the papers and asked, “How did your mom react to that?”   
  
Rose scoffed. “Take a guess.” After a moment she said, “Mum…Mum was okay with it after I got it checked out. She told me I could keep it as long as I took care of him and he doesn’t poop on the floor.”   
  
“Did you tell your mother how you found the dog?”   
  
“I may have…stretched the truth a bit.”   
  
“What did you say?”   
  
Rose was quiet. Finally she muttered, “That I found him on my way home from work.”   
  
“Does your mother know about your trips to the house? Or your letters?”   
  
“If you were in my position, would you tell my mother?”  
  
Amy gave a chuckle and said, “Absolutely not.”   
  
“My mum is a lovely woman, but she doesn’t except well to things she doesn’t understand. And this…” she pointed to the letters, “in her mind, this is voodoo or some kind of crap like that. I can’t tell her. I want to, but I can’t. How would I even begin: ‘Hey Mum, guess what? You know that house we lived in? Well, turns out that I can somehow communicate with the man who lived in the house before us. Turns out he was a really nice guy. Oh, and here’s his dog.’ Like my mother wouldn’t freak out too much.”   
  
Amy nodded. “I was telling Rory, and he’s a bit…well, suspicious about it, and he has a more open mind than your mother.” After a moment, Amy became serious and said, “Can I tell you something? And please, don’t be offended.”   
  
“Huh-oh. That usually means I’m going to be offend no matter what.”   
  
Ignoring her, Amy continued. “I just think…well, it’s odd, this situation that you now find yourself in, but don’t get attached to him or anything.”   
  
“I’m not,” Rose insisted.   
  
“But this,” Amy held up the papers again. “This is just so fantastical, so extraordinary that perhaps you could lose yourself in this mysterious man. Just don’t. Remember that you’re in the present and he’s in the past.”   
  
“Amy, I’m not going to lose myself to him. I barely know the man. This is just fun, that’s all it is.”   
  
~*~   
  
 _So, did you see it?  
  
*  
I don’t want to talk about it.   
  
*  
You did, didn’t you? And how was it?   
  
*  
It was…good.   
  
*  
Did you cry?   
  
*  
I really don’t want to talk about it.   
  
*  
You cried! I know you did! Nobody cannot cry when they see _Toy Story 3. _It’s been three years and people still talk about how they cried like a baby.  
  
*  
  
I am a man. A manly man, at that. I did not cry over some lost toys.   
  
*  
  
You cried, didn’t you?   
  
*  
  
Like a baby. Thanks for the warning about tissues. They came in handy._  
  
~*~  
  
“How goes it with your mystery girl?” Jack asked as he walked into Jonathon’s house.   
  
“Okay, I guess. I haven’t heard from her in a couple of days.”   
  
Jack sat down on the couch and took the glass of water Jonathon offered. “You’re not getting nervous, are ya? I mean, you just met–excuse me, got into contact with this woman recently. Last Monday, or so, right?”   
  
“Sunday. And yeah. I mean, I’m not nervous or anything. You saw the long drive she has. She can’t come out every day. Still. I liked…writing to her. It was nice.”   
  
“Oh no,” Jacked said as he leaned forward and placed the glass on the table. “I know that look. You’re intrigued.”   
  
“I am not,” Jonathon scoffed.   
  
“You are too. I can see it in your eyes. You’re interested.”   
  
“This is some girl who lives in the future.”   
  
“She’s alive right now, you ninny.”   
  
“You know what I mean,” he groaned back. “But I have to admit it is…fascinating, what we’re doing. This writing back and forth. She wouldn’t tell me anything that happened in the future. Well, she told me that they have flying cars and people don’t talk to each other because they just read each others’ minds, but I’m pretty sure she was being sarcastic.”   
  
“You gonna write back?”   
  
Jonathon shrugged, acting nonchalant, but Jack knew better. He could almost see his friend’s hand twitch to the pad and pen on the table.   
  
Jack picked up his glass again and took a sip. Getting off topic, he asked if he heard anyone from work. “The secretary of the department, Joan Redforn, she called me asking me how I was doing. She was always so nice to me, making me a cuppa and sending off emails with no hesitation.”   
  
Jack grinned. “Maybe she’s interested in you.”   
  
Jonathon really scoffed at that. “Joan is nice to everybody. Still, I appreciate the thought. She also asked if I wanted to go out for a cup of coffee, but I think she was just being nice. She’s being supportive. You know, because of the divorce.”   
  
“Supportive.  _Right._ ” Jack wasn’t convinced. “I think she’s got a bit of the Jonathon Smith Fever.”   
  
“Shut up. Why do I tell you anything? You make everything into an innuendo.”   
  
“Oh, everything was an innuendo long before I got here. I just point it out to everyone. The word itself–innuendo–can be made into a sexual reference. Because you can put your–”  
  
Jonathon quickly cut Jack off. “Yeah, I got it.”  
  
Jack smiled. “So are you going to call this Joan person or write to Rose? Hmm? Which will it be?”   
  
~*~   
  
 _Sorry I haven’t made it to the mailbox lately. Work and life and such. You know, the crappy things.  
  
*  
  
I was getting worried. I thought you abandoned me.   
  
You should know you’re my only connection to the future.   
  
I realized that we talked about general things, but we didn’t talk about likes, dislikes, etc.   
  
So. Thoughts?   
  
*  
  
Hmmm. Well, I don’t actually like the color pink, but people always compliment me when I wear it, so I wear it quite often. I love Science Fiction, especially the Madman in a Box series that came out…oh, wait, nevermind. That started in 2011. When it starts, make sure you read it. It’s excellent.   
  
I want to travel, only this time not as a groupie. More like to see sights and experience different cultures. Don’t get me wrong, I love being with my mum, but I just want to go, you know? Run out the door and never look back.   
  
You?   
  
*  
  
I’ll have to look for that book series. Sounds interesting.   
  
Well, I mentioned previously that I love the stars, but like you I am very interested in other cultures. I think that if we just gave up our prejudice and ignorance, you would all live in a better place. I like to think that I embrace difference and am fascinated by things that are different.   
  
Have you ever walked around this great city of ours, though? I mean, really walked around, noticed the small details — oftentimes, it’s the details that are the most interesting of them all. You should.   
  
*  
  
No, I haven’t. I’ve lived in or near London my whole life, and I have never seen it. Not the way you talk about it.   
  
*  
  
Come with me._   
  
*  
  
Rose read his note and pulled a map out of the mailbox. It was a map to London and certain places had a star on them, some gold others silver. The gold ones meant she had to look at them, straight away because those were his favorite spots; silver meant that if she got to them, great, but if not that’s okay too.   
  
She got back into her car and drove back to London. As she walked around, she kept writing to Jonathon, commenting on what she saw. Attached to the map were his thoughts on the places–which included, but were not limited to the London Eye, Big Ben, Downing Street, London Bridge, and Piccadilly Circus. There were also places she didn’t know all that well, places where someone had to know how to get to in order to find. Like a small pond that really does appear out of nowhere. The last place on the map was her own apartment complex, Powell Estate. There was no note attached as to why he chose this place, but he just placed a gold star on it.   
  
When she arrived back home, she looked around the area, wondering if perhaps there was something here that she had always missed. And, in fact, there was. Only it wasn’t on any of those buildings, but rather across from them. There, written in spray paint with the handwriting she had grown to know very well, were the words:   
  
 _R —We did this together. —J_  
  
Rose drove back to the house and wrote a message to Jonathon.   
  
 _I wish you were really there._  
  
His reply came quickly.   
  
 _Me too._


	5. Chapter 5

Life continued on for both Rose and Jonathon. Rose had Amy and Rory planning their wedding, something that was going to happen at the end of October, and she had Henrik’s and she had her mother. Jonathon had Jack and Donna and he was filling out his plans on what he wanted to do in the fall semester.   
  
And they were both bored with it all. The only thing that made life interesting for either of them were these letters. For Rose, it was a nice callback; something that made a bad time of her life manageable. For Jonathan, it was the amazing experience of calling into the future, already putting his mark out there, even if it was just his handwriting.   
  
Rose went back to the house every chance she got. She always took K-9 who followed her around like…well, followed her around like a lost puppy. She sometimes wondered if K-9 was also a way of connecting them, somehow bringing them both together.   
  
One evening, Rose took off early to drive to the house. It was almost becoming addicting, making the hour long drive just to put a note in a mailbox. She loved opening the door and raising the flag herself, making absolutely sure that he was receiving it. And words could not describe the feeling she got when the flag rose on its own and she knew that he was standing in exactly the same spot.   
  
Jonathon told her about how Jack and Donna were there for him, no matter what arose. He told her how he met both friends, and how sometime he felt like they were the biggest dorks in the world, but he didn’t care. He loved being in their company and how he wished that they could all meet. He went into great detail about his love for the stars and how he wished he could show them to her. That he would set up a night where they could lie on the highest hill they could find and just stare at the stars for hours. He told her that though he had been to America for college, he had never gone anywhere else. And how bored he was at home now.   
  
Rose told him about her boredom. How much she loved their walk together, and how she wished he could take her hand and they could just travel everywhere together, admiring all the different cultures this world had to offer. She talked about the flowers, how much she loved the bright purple flowers that she just couldn’t seem to find anywhere else but at this house. How the air was just so much cleaner here than in London and she loved it more than anything.   
  
She just wrote and wrote and wrote, tiring out her hand. After placing the letter in the mailbox she waited for a response, but none came. After an hour, she gave up, figuring he wasn’t home and left herself.   
  
The next day, she was talking to Amy about it, how cleansing it was to just write about how much she loved being in that home and how she wished she could just move back in. Amy followed her back to Henrik’s (because Amy had the rest of the afternoon off and she needed to pick up some new shoes) when Rose saw it. Purple flowers outside of the shop. They were planted around the small trees, tress that look to be about three years old. The flowers were in full-bloom, showing off their petals and their scent was just amazing. However, she wondered why she never noticed them before, but they were the exact same flowers that were outside the house. She was sure of it.   
  
Smiling to herself, Rose knew that she would make another trip to the house, even if it was just to say thanks.   
  
~*~   
  
 _We’ll find each other, Rose. You have to believe me. Even though we are so far apart, I will find a way to be close to you.  
  
And you’re very welcome. _  
  
~*~   
  
Donna asked if Jonathon wanted to meet up one afternoon for lunch. Being almost bored out of his skull, Jonathon agreed quickly and met Donna at her favorite restaurant in the city itself.   
  
After they ordered, Donna started talking about a man she met at work, Lee. He was a nice man, she said. Couldn’t get her name out if he tried, and he did. He tried often. But he was such a wonderful man. She couldn’t understand why he hasn’t asked her out. “We get along,” she said as they ate their salad. “We joke, we laugh, we have fun together. I don’t understand what is taking him so long.”   
  
“Not all guys rush,” Jonathon said as he chewed on some cucumber. “There’s something nice about taking it slow. Not going into it head first.”   
  
Donna scoffed. “Please. As if you would know anything about that. You married Reinette before you were officially over that hangover, you remember?” After his reluctant nod, she said, “If you had taken the time to get to know each other, you never would have married her.”   
  
“Yes, Donna, I know. You’ve told me. Many times. I’ve learned, is all. Isn’t that what one does after they make a mistake? Learn from it?”   
  
“And, what now you’re the relationship guru? One clausal mistake and now you know everything?”   
  
“I know the joy of taking it slow, of not rushing. It’s…nice to get to know someone, talk about what they like and don’t like. To get to know them for who they are and not what they look like.”   
  
Donna stared at Jonathon as though he just announced he’s an alien from a planet she had never even heard of. “Who are you and what have you done to my best friend?”   
  
Jonathon rolled his eyes. “I’m being serious. Maybe this Lee is just waiting for the opportune time. Maybe he doesn’t want to rush because he really likes you and wants to take it slow.”   
  
Donna dropped her fork and lean forward. “What in bloody hell has gotten into you? Next I’m going to hear that Jack is giving up flirting!”   
  
“Donna, you’re being ridiculous. Jack flirts with everything that moves, so you know that’s never going to happen.”   
  
“Yeah, but when did you become an expert in relationships? It’s not like you’re even in one!”   
  
Jonathon looked down and placed his fork on his plate carefully. Then he looked up and nodded. “You’re right. I’m not.”   
  
Donna’s eyes went huge. “Oh my God.”   
  
“What?” Jonathon looked behind him, but there was nothing there. When he turned back, Donna’s eyes were focused solely on him.   
  
“You are in a relationship! How come you didn’t tell me?”   
  
“What are you talking about?”   
  
“You hesitated and looked down when I mentioned that you’re not in a relationship. You are in one! Oh, what’s her name? What does she do?” Donna grew excited and smiled. “When can I meet her?”   
  
“I’m not in a relationship,” he stated seriously. “Really, I’m not.”   
  
Donna pouted. “But you…you looked down. You hesitated. You are definitely in a relation–Oh,  _you are kidding me_!” Donna almost yelled, interrupting herself.   
  
Jonathon looked around, confused. “What is happening right now?”   
  
Donna leaned close across the table and whispered, “This is the blue house girl, isn’t it?” When Jonathon’s only response was a blush, Donna leaned back and groaned. “You like a girl who you have never even met! And is currently three years into the future.”   
  
“Okay, first of all, we live in a world where people meet via internet all the time, so not actually having met her is not the issue here. The difference in time, though, yeah that’s not too good.”   
  
“But are you actually in a relationship with this woman?”   
  
“Rose. Her name is Rose, not woman. And,” he rubbed his neck, trying to figure out how to answer. “We’re not in a relationship, no. But we do write to each other and…I like her, okay?”   
  
Donna looked at him. “You like her?”   
  
“Yes. A lot. I…I like writing to her and I love getting her responses. So, no, we’re not in a relationship, per se, but I…I wouldn’t mind if we were.”   
  
Losing all of her brashness from before, Donna leaned forward and took his hand that was lying on the table. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Jonathon. And there is no way out of this that won’t end in heartache.”   
  
He wanted to give her a sarcastic response, but he knew that she was talking from the heart. Instead, he put his other hand on top of hers and nodded slowly. “I know.”   
  
~*~   
  
 _Dearest Jonathon,  
Are you willing to play a game with me?   
  
Three years ago today, I was taking the tube from King’s Cross to Gloucester Road and I forgot something at the station. It was my father’s jacket. I wore it because it was pouring when I left the house and it was the first thing I grabbed. It was dark green and had a pin on the lapel, a rose.   
  
If you find it, can you please put it in the mailbox?   
  
It would mean a lot.   
  
Yours,   
  
Rose_  
  
~*~   
  
Jonathon drove to King’s Cross station, hoping it wouldn’t be crazy, but knowing that it would be. King’s Cross was always crazy, and even more so because of _Harry Potter_.   
  
He pulled into the car park and ran as fast as he could to the building itself. He tried not to think about what she had written ( _‘Yours, Rose’_ ) and was failing miserably. Was she really his? Was she feeling this as well? Because he truly believed it was one-sided, but perhaps it wasn’t. Perhaps she liked him just as much as he liked her.   
  
The smile on his face was impossible to get rid of, but he was truly focusing on the situation at hand. A dark green jacket that was probably wet, thanks to the rain that was now all but gone. He ran over to the tube that was getting ready to leave for Gloucester Road. In looking for the coat on the benches, he accidentally bumped into a woman who had her arms around a man. He apologized before continuing on his search. When he looked back, the woman he bumped into, a young woman, maybe nineteen or so, laughed at something the man said before giving him a quick peck and picking up her bag off the bench behind her and dashing onto the train that was just about to close its doors. Squished into the back of the bench was a dark green jacket. Just as the train started to move, Jonathon ran over to pick it up, holding it out. Dark green, rose pin on the lapel. He looked back at the train. The woman was leaning towards the window, looking right at Jonathon holding the jacket.   
  
That’s when Jonathon realized that he just got his first glimpse of Rose.   
  
In their letters, they did talk about how they looked, but that was nothing to actually seeing her with his own eyes. Since he didn’t know that the woman he bumped into was Rose, he didn’t pay too close of attention, at least at first. But he did catch her long blonde hair and smile. The boy she was kissing must be that prick Jimmy, though. Rose never really wanted to talk about him, and Jonathon couldn’t blame her. He never really wanted to talk about Reinette, so he never pressed the issue. But right here, right now, he wished he knew what exactly Jimmy did or said to Rose so that Jonathon could have a few words with him.   
  
Jonathon took the jacket and walked back to his car. When he was sure no one was looking, he lifted it to his nose and took a deep breath. He now knew that Rose smelt like vanilla.   
  
~*~   
  
 _Dearest Rose,  
  
I found it. I have it with me.   
  
One day I will give it to you. Trust me. I know how important this must be for you.   
  
You might not remember, but we saw each other. At least, I saw you.   
  
You never told me how beautiful you are.  
  
*  
  
Maybe you saw someone else. That was when I was going through a…baggy pants phase.   
  
*  
  
Long blonde hair.The most beautiful smile I have ever seen, and the perfect laugh.   
  
It was most definitely you.   
  
*  
  
Okay, okay, okay. You saw me. But I still don’t know what you look like. I know you’ve told me–spikey brown hair, thin, brown eyes, etc, etc–but you have an unfair advantage. You saw me in person.   
  
*  
  
Well, why don’t we just get together in the future and therefore you will finally meet me in your time. And you can let me know what you think. Though, I have to tell you I have gotten many–many–compliments on my hair.   
  
*  
  
How do you make me laugh through paper?   
  
But what are you proposing then? That you make a reservation three years in advance? And then I go and you’ll meet me?   
  
*  
  
Yeah.   
  
*  
  
Are you asking me out on a date?   
  
*  
  
Yes.   
  
*  
  
Okay. Make the reservation. Tell me where and at what time.   
  
Why don’t you call me on 30 July 2013 at 6:10 p.m. to officially ask me?_  
  
~*~   
  
Just as Rose placed her pen down, her mobile rang. She stared at it for a moment, heart pounding, blood rushing to her head. All she could focus on was the vibrating phone on her bed, almost going to fall over. Right before it could, she reached out with shaking hands and pressed the talk button. “Hello?” she asked with bated breath.   
  
“Rose!” Mickey Smith’s familiar voice yelled through. “Rose, I’m back from the states! And do I have news for you! Wanna celebrate?!”   
  
Mickey was Rose’s best friend, well besides Amy. Rose knew Mickey since they were in diapers, and before she ran off with Jimmy, she even dated Mickey for a while, but it was clear that they were not suppose to go any further than just mates. Well, on Rose’s side. Mickey felt that they could have gone further, and he believed that the reason Rose left him was because he was too boring for her. So when Rose left, a brokenhearted Mickey decided that instead of staying home and waiting for her to change her mind, he wanted to have adventures of his own. Unlike Jimmy, however, Mickey became hugely successful in the music career. He loved playing drums and had joined a band called Tin Dog that was more pop rock than rock music, but Mickey insisted that they were going to make it someday.   
  
And she was happy to hear from Mickey, she really was. He was her best mate and she wished him every luck in the world. But right now, at this moment, he was the last person she wanted to hear from. Really, she didn’t want to hear from anyone who wasn’t Jonathon.   
  
With a deflated heart, she told Mickey that she would love to meet up with him. He wanted to go to Luna Nuova, an expensive restaurant that was one of the best in the city. She always dreamed of going there, but never in a million years could she afford it. Since Mickey was recommending it, he had to have come into some serious cash.   
  
They met outside the restaurant and he was just as handsome as she remembered, if not more so. His dark skin and bright smile were so familiar to her that she let out a cry of joy on seeing him again. The last time they saw each other face-to-face, he had on baggy jeans, an oversize sweater, and a beanie hat. Now, in his black dress pants and dark blue button down, he looked so grown up she didn’t know how to feel about that. It seemed that time had been good for him whereas for her it was just okay.   
  
She tried to keep smiling and support Mickey as he told her his surprise: his band was going to have a television appearance on Graham Norton show. He had heard their music and thought that they were going to be the next big thing. This was huge for Mickey, a real boost for him and the rest of the band, but Rose’s smile couldn’t reach her eyes. It was selfish of her, she knew, but she couldn’t help but think that she should be meeting Jonathon right now, not reacquainting with Mickey.   
  
When Mickey calmed down enough, he escorted Rose to the hostess’ stand. The woman was currently on the phone, her brown hair in an elegant ponytail, her suit probably costing more than Rose would ever make. When she hung up, Mickey said, “We’d like a table for two, please.” His smile almost jumped off his face. Rose sighed, wishing she was more excited about this, but she couldn’t get over her disappointment of not getting a call from Jonathon.   
  
“Name?” the woman asked.   
  
“Oh.” Mickey’s smile faded a bit. “I don’t have a reservation.”   
  
“We’re booked until December,” the hostess said.   
  
Mickey nodded. “Right. Of course. Sorry.”   
  
They walked away, Mickey mumbling under his breath. She heard him say “stupid” and “reservations” before she finally broke a smile and grabbed his arm. “It’s no big deal,” she said. “We can go somewhere else to celebrate.”   
  
He turned and grabbed both her hands. “It’s just…it’s been forever since I’ve seen you, since you’re father…” he stopped talking, his words not needed. They both knew how he was going to finish that, and he didn’t want to, nor did he need to. “And I just want to catch up. Tell me all about what’s happening in the world of Rose Tyler.”   
  
Rose didn’t feel like talking about her situation with Mickey, not now. Instead she sat down on a bench that overlooked the Thames and said, “Oh, you know me. Fun, fun, fun,” she said sarcastically.   
  
He sat down next to her. “Don’t be like that. It’s gets better.”   
  
She scoffed. “Yeah? When?”   
  
“How’s your mum?” She shrugged. He let out air. “Come on, Rose, you have to give me something to work with here? I figure you don’t want to talk about Jimmy, especially since the last time I saw you two together, you had your tongue down someone else’s throat.”   
  
Rose looked taken back. “Excuse me? What are you talking about?”   
  
“Oh, don’t do that, Rose. I know you too well. I remember clearly you making out with some bloke at party that ginger threw for you.”   
  
“You’re kidding me, right? You’re gonna bring that up! That was  _years_  ago!”   
  
“Three, actually. You and that Jimmy prick came back for some unknown reason and I went outside to warn you that Jimmy was hitting the bottle again, and there you are snogging some random bloke!”   
  
Rose got up and started to walk away. “I don’t need this right now, Mickey. Please, don’t do this. I made one mistake and now I have to hear about it for the rest of my life!”   
  
“One mistake? You were snogging another man!”   
  
“That was years ago! And besides, you weren’t even my boyfriend, why did you care?”   
  
“Because I will always care about you, Rose! And you left me!” Mickey was getting so angry at her that his voice was getting higher and, Rose hated to admit it, he had tears in his eyes. He was still hurt. She left him three and a half years ago and it still hurt. “You left me for that wanker and it turns out you didn’t even care all that much about him now, huh? That you were ready to get it on with another bloke!”   
  
“Mickey,” Rose said sternly, knowing that if he kept talking he would say something he would very highly regret. “You better stop. Now.”   
  
He stood up and threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know why I still care. I really don’t. Since you stopped caring a long time ago.”   
  
“Mickey Smith!” Rose was so angry, she didn’t even know how to finish that sentence. Instead, she just stormed off, running as fast as she could back home.   
  
~*~  
Jonathon was just putting the finishing touches on his outside paint job when his mobile went off. “Hello?” he said, after picking up. He didn’t check to see who it was, but it was usually one of two people anyway.   
  
And this time was no exception. “Jon-a-thon!” Jack yelled so loudly Jonathon almost dropped his phone.   
  
“What are you yelling for?!”   
  
“Sorry,” Jack said in a much lower voice. “Didn’t mean to shout. Anyway, what are you, my good buddy, doing tonight?”   
  
“Probably watching a movie.”   
  
“Is that an a.k.a for writing another letter to your Rose?”   
  
Yes. “No. I was actually going to watch a movie.”   
  
“Well, do I have something for you, my best mate. A party!”   
  
Jonathon groaned. “Oh Jack, you know how I hate parties.”   
  
“This is for a friend of a friend. Of a friend. Anyway, I already invited Donna and she said she’s coming. And possibly her new bf, but I’m not sure. Anyway, please say you’ll come.”   
  
“Where is it?”   
  
“Brentford.”   
  
“Jack, I really don’t want to.”   
  
“Too bad. You’re coming. You have been too hung up on this girl, Jonathon, you’re forgetting what real women look like. Come to the party and meet some new people.”   
  
And Jack hung up before Jonathon could say another word.   
  
~*~   
  
Jonathon hated only a few things in life: pears, stupidity, and parties. And two out of the three were usually found at a party, and on the worst of occasions, sometimes all three. This party, in a small house in Brentford, had only the party itself against it, but Jonathon still just wanted to go home and finish his letter to Rose. She wrote to him, telling him about a terrible row she got into with a good friend of her’s named Mickey Smith. There was no relation to him, she assured Jonathon, but she was still very angry about what this Mickey had apparently said to her. She didn’t go into too many details, but apparently this Mickey called Rose’s character in question. Jonathon decided he didn’t like this Mickey the Idiot.   
  
Donna was at the party, with Lee, which made the whole deal a little bit better. Lee was not conventionally handsome, but he did seem to really like Donna and he treated her well, so Jonathon had nothing to say on the matter other than it was nice to see Donna happy. And Jack was there as well, already getting chummy with a few other party goers.   
  
Jonathon walked over to Donna and Lee who were talking to another ginger who was much younger. She looked to be her late teens, early twenties. “Donna,” Jonathon interrupted. “Do you even know who this party is for?”   
“My best friend,” the redhead said. “She’s coming home with her boyfriend. They went traveling together and this is the first time I’ve seen her in weeks. I thought she would enjoy this.” She gestured to all around her.   
  
“Oh. Right. ‘Course.” Jonathon added being embarrassed to his list of things he hates. Quickly, he tried to righted the situation by saying, “I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Jonathon Smith.”   
  
The redhead held out her hand. “Amy Pond.”   
  
Jonathon’s hand, in mid-shake with Amy’s, froze. Amy Pond. He knew that name. And he only knew it from one place: Rose. Rose mentioned her time and time again her best friend, Amy Pond, who is engaged to someone named Rory. Rory Williams. And if Amy Pond was throwing this party for her best friend, then that would mean…  
  
“Oh!” Amy shouted as she looked over his shoulder. “She’s coming! Rooooooose!”   
  
Jonathon zipped around, trying to follow Amy with his eyes, but she got swallowed up by the crowd. He felt someone touch his arm. “Jonathon? Are you alright?”   
  
“Amy,” he muttered. “That’s Amy.”   
  
Donna nodded, not sure of where Jonathon was going with this. “Yeah. And?”   
  
He looked back at Donna, trying to make her understand how huge this was for him. “Donna, Amy is Rose’s best friend. They met in school. And Rose told me that she was traveling with her boyfriend at this time. What if she came home now?  _What if this party is for her_?!”   
  
Donna’s eyes went wide. “You think you’re about to meet Rose? Your Rose?”   
  
He nodded. “I really think I will.”   
  
Donna peeked around him and noted, “I think Amy’s coming back in with someone.”   
  
Jonathon turned around and–yes, Amy was indeed coming back in with someone. Someone with long blonde hair, a round face, full lips, and though he couldn’t see her eye color exactly, he bet there were light brown.   
  
Yes. He was finally going to meet Rose Tyler face-to-face. 


	6. Chapter 6

After Rose left Mickey, she didn’t run home. At least, not to her house. She ran to Amy and Rory’s apartment. They lived in a three family house, in which they occupied the second floor. It was a two bedroom apartment, and it was tiny and cramped and perfect for the two of them before they officially started their life together.   
  
Amy didn’t ask any questions, at least not right away, and Rory pretended not to notice Rose’s red cheeks and watery eyes, though Rose knew he could. Finally, when Rose calmed down enough, she told them what happened, what Mickey was celebrating, that it sounded like he wanted to get back together (or maybe Rose was just imagining that), and what he heavily implied. That Rose was…that Rose was easy.   
  
“No!” Amy shouted when Rose admitted that out loud. Rory shook his head, agreeing with Amy. “No, no, no! Mickey would never imply that. He’s just upset that you left him, that’s all.”   
  
“Come on, Amy. He was obviously implying something. And I don’t even remember what party he was referring to.”   
  
“You don’t remember making out with a man? How bad was he?” Rory asked innocently.   
  
“No, I just…I don’t even remember the party he was referring to.”   
  
“Oh, come on, of course you remember that. I threw it for you. It was to celebrate you coming home after being away for so long. But you got mad at Jimmy because his hand was going up some dumb bitch’s skirt.” She turned to Rory. “Innocent, he swore.” Rory scoffed at Jimmy’s idiocy. “Anyway, the next thing I knew you were screaming at him and stormed out of the house. Now Mickey says you were kissing someone? Also,” Amy said sitting up straighter and looking Rose dead in the eye. “How could you not tell me that you were kissing another man? Isn’t that something one best friend tells another best friend?”   
  
Rose rolled her eyes. Then she looked off into the distance, trying to remember that night. “Actually, yeah, I do remember storming out and talking to a bloke. He…” She started to smile, the first one since she came into the house. “He was really nice. Told me I should break things off with Jimmy. How could I forget him? He was a doctor, I remember that, because I remember being impressed that a doctor came to the party. I remember now. I remember that —  _Oh my God_.”   
  
Rose stopped talking as the memory of that evening came flooding back to her. Going into the house and seeing all these people when Rose just really wanted to be left alone. Giving fake smile after smile, pretending that everything was perfect when really everything was shit. Walking in on Jimmy and another woman, and just screaming because she was sick of it all, she really was. She deserved better than this. And storming out of the house, only to see a bloke sitting on the steps, nursing a beer.   
  
“What?” Amy asked, leaning forward. “What is it?”   
  
“Jonathon. That was the night I met Jonathon.”   
  
~*~   
  
Though he tried as hard as he could, he couldn’t get close to Rose. She always had someone with her, let it be Amy or some bloke who Jonathon took to be Jimmy. Jimmy was an okay looking bloke, about three inches taller than Rose, with dark black hair, big green eyes, a large flat nose, and a smirk that Jonathon really wanted to punch off his face.   
  
But Rose…he couldn’t keep his eyes off Rose. She was even more beautiful then he originally thought. Her hair reached the middle of her back and looked so soft and inviting he wanted to run his fingers through it so badly. Her clothes were as baggy as she let on in her letters, but there were obviously clothes a teenager would wear.   
  
Finally, Amy grabbed Rose and brought her over to Donna and Jonathon. His heart was about to pound right out of his chest and his hands started to sweat, but he couldn’t scare Rose off. He had to remember that though he knew a lot about her, she had never heard of him before in her life. This was three years before she would receive that first letter, and he had to keep that in mind. Even though all he wanted to do was hug her, even for just a minute.   
  
“Rose, this is Donna, Lee, and Jonathon. Guys this is Rose Tyler, my best friend!” Amy said, hugging Rose closer. Rose just about reached Jonathon’s shoulder and the need to hug her increased tenfold. Up close she was…she was breathtaking. Her eyes were definitely light brown, not quite hazel, more like honey. Her nose was a bit flat, and her full lips made it seem like she had a huge smile. A smile that could take up her entire face, and Jonathon wanted to make her smile. He wanted to make her smile every single day, because a day without her smile would just be a bad day. He also wanted to be the reason she smiled so brightly.  
  
But he quickly realized how…sad she looked. She wasn’t the vibrate person he thought her to be. She looked tired and…well, she looked like she just wanted to climb into bed and never leave. Her eyes didn’t exactly shine and her smile, though big, didn’t reach across her face like he thought it could. She looked worn down.   
  
She said her hellos, barely looking at any of them. Donna gave him a look, trying to make him feel better, but didn’t need help at all. It was Rose. Even though this was first time he met her face-to-face, he knew that something was very off. And he wanted to do something.   
  
He just didn’t know what. Rose never really mentioned Jimmy, not really wanting to focus on that part of her life. Maybe it was Jimmy who was making her miserable. If it was, he wasn’t going to be held accountable for his actions.   
  
After so long he couldn’t take Donna’s puppy-eyes look or the small talk that Rose was trying to make with the people around her. He grabbed a beer and went outside to collect his thoughts. No one was outside with him, so he sat all alone on the steps, trying to come up with a way to talk to Rose alone.   
  
Turned out the universe had something different in mind. Because no sooner had he come up with a plan (which basically insisted on saying, “Hello, I’m Jonathon Smith and I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you”) than Rose herself stormed out of the house and slammed the door.   
  
When she saw him, she apologized for that, but he just nodded, words getting stuck in his throat. He didn’t know how to proceed. No one really wrote a book on what to say to the woman you fell in love three years before she knew you, but you had to be careful and not say something that could jeopardize the future, otherwise she may never actually write you that letter that started all of this in the first place. Again, though, the universe had something else in mind. Rose herself planted herself on the same step as Jonathon, only on the other side, and asked, “Can I bum a smoke?”   
  
He looked up at her. “Don’t smoke.”   
  
“Oh. Okay then.”   
  
Jonathon’s mind was reeling. For someone who couldn’t keep their gob shut if they tried, it would be nice if  _now_  he could think of  _something_!   
  
“Can I ask you a question?” Rose asked, not seeming to care that Jonathon’s heart was pounding.   
  
“Uh, sure.”   
  
“Are all males idiots?”   
  
He thought he misheard. “Excuse me?”   
  
She sighed. “Nevermind.” After a moment, she continued. “It’s just…my boyfriend, Jimmy, he thinks that I don’t know what he’s doing behind my back, but I do. And I would appreciate it if he just…”   
  
Jonathon looked over at her. She looked so lost and small and he hated it. The Rose he knew was strong and, while a bit self-conscious, could handle herself in any situation. This, right here, was not what he wanted to see. “If he just what?”   
  
She held herself close. “Sorry. I’m just going on and I never even introduce myself. I’m Rose.”   
  
He didn’t mention that they actually met inside. “Jonathon.”   
  
She nodded. “What do you do, Jonathon?”   
  
“I’m a professor, actually. At King’s College London.”   
  
“What do you teach?”   
  
“Physics.”   
  
“I take it you have a doctrine or–”  
  
“Yeah, I do.”   
  
“You’re a doctor.” It was a statement, not a question.   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“What are you doing here at a party for someone who you don’t even know, Doctor?”   
  
He didn’t correct her that he did in fact know her. Probably better than anyone one else in the house. “My friend invited me. Jack Harkness. I’m sure you met, and even if you didn’t you would know him by the end of the night.”   
  
“Sounds like a fun guy,” Rose commented, looking away from him. He really wanted her to look at him. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of her and she barely looked at him.   
  
“Yeah, he is.”   
  
Then there was a moment of silence. It seemed to stretch on forever. All Jonathon wanted to do was hold Rose in his arms, but she didn’t know who he was, even if he sure as hell knew her. Rose’s actions indicated that she was going to go back inside, but he needed a few more minutes with her. And in classic Jonathon fashion, he said the first thing that popped into his mind. “You shouldn’t be with him.”   
  
Rose looked over at him. “What?”   
  
“You shouldn’t be with that man. That whats-his-face. You deserve better.”   
  
“Thanks. But it’s complicated.”   
  
“No, it’s not.” He leaned towards her, but still kept a distance. “You are…you are beautiful and…I know we only just met, I can see that you’re not happy. I can see it in your eyes.”   
  
She looked away, pointedly not looking at him. “You have a lot to say for a stranger.”  
  
He straighten himself and leaned his elbows on his knees. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That was over the line.”   
  
She sighed. “But you’re right. I’m not happy. Jimmy…I thought I was in love with him, but I’m not. I can’t seem to leave him, though.”   
  
“Why not?”   
  
She shrugged. “He…He’s got some kind of hold over me. I don’t know.”   
  
“Rose, if you’re not happy, you shouldn’t be in that relationship. You are going to find a man who will love you because you’re you. And he won’t…do whatever it is that Jimmy prick is doing. You, Rose Tyler, will find someone brilliant, just like you. I’m sure of it.”   
  
She looked over at him and smiled. A big smile, one that almost jumped off her face. “Really?” She nodded, still smiling. “Thanks, Doctor.”   
  
“Jonathon. You can just call me Jonathon.”   
  
“Okay, Jonathon.”   
  
They smiled at each other and for a moment Jonathon really thought that she liked him. Even though she had no idea who he was. Jonathon’s heart was pounding and he didn’t want to lose these precious moments with her. He wasn’t sure he would ever see her again, face-to-face, though he so desperately wanted to.   
  
Without warning, the music from inside started blasting, some hip-hop music that Jonathon was not used to. Without thinking, both cringed at the loud noise before looking at each other and laughing. After a few minutes, Jonathon asked, “What do you do, Rose?”   
  
“Nothing, right now. I travel. With my boyfriend. But I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna keep doing that. After all, I deserve better because I’m brilliant.” She gave him such a big smile that he started to blush. She laughed before saying, “My parents are thinking of moving. To Canvey Island. You know the area?”   
  
He froze, not wanting to give too much away, but still wanting to talk. “Um, yeah. Yeah, I do. I live there. On the lake.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I have a house on the lake.”   
  
“Oh, I bet it’s beautiful.”   
  
“It is, it is beautiful."   
  
She leaned back, resting her elbows on the porch behind her. Jonathon tried not to stare, but it did give more focus to her chest region. He quickly looked away and wished he hadn’t finished his beer, so it would give him something to do.   
  
“I imagine it’s so calm on the water, just hearing the lap of water, the cool breeze. I’ll have to convince my parents to actually move there.”   
  
He gulped slowly before turning to look at her. “It is beautiful, yeah.”   
  
She leaned forward and gave a grin where her tongue was caught between her teeth. His eyes popped open and his heart race accelerated. This woman was going to be the death of him, and she didn’t even know it.   
  
The music inside suddenly became a slow song, one that could easily be danced to.   
  
They looked at each other, both wanting the same thing, but daring the other to move first. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up, so standing up tall, Jonathon turned around and silently reached out his hand, palm up. Rose looked up at him before giving another 100 watt smile and taking his hand.   
  
He gently laid his hand on her waist as she placed her hand on his shoulder. Their other hands were still holding on, and a part of Jonathon swore that it was like these hands were meant to interlock. They looked at each other–him looking down, her looking up–and Jonathon just wanted this moment to freeze, because it could not get any better than this. Dancing under the stars with the girl of his dreams in his arms…this was better than any fantasy he could imagine–and he could imagine quite a few–but this was so much better because it was real. She was really in his arms. He could feel her, feel her breath, feel her racing heart.   
  
Dreams were made from moments like this.   
  
Rose leaned her head on his shoulder, being at the perfect height to do that. But suddenly they were chest to chest, legs touching legs, and if Jonathon didn’t take a breath he was going to pass out on the best moment of his life. Her breath tickled his neck and it was the best feeling in the world.   
  
She said nothing, for there was nothing to say. This moment was perfect, nothing could make it better. Nothing could be said, because if a word was spoken, maybe it would ruin the moment, and he just didn’t want to take that chance.   
  
After the chorus, she leaned back, just the tiniest bit and looked up at him. He couldn’t see her light brown eyes because it was too dark, but he could see that she was staring right at him. And he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. And though he kept thinking that nothing could make this moment better, he was very happily wrong.   
  
For at that moment, Rose was stretching up, starting to stand on her tippy-toes, and he leaned down and when their lips met, he swore time stopped. Time stopped and he could feel the turn of the earth, feel it moving throughout space, and he was wrong before, this was the best moment of his life. Her lips were so soft, and he greedy took them in, like taking a sip of water after a hot day.   
  
It didn’t matter to him that they couldn’t be together immediately after this, because this moment, right here right now, was just so damn amazing that it he honestly couldn’t care. Her lips moved under his and he tried to copy her actions because as amazing as this is, he was terrified of doing something wrong. His ex-wife didn’t always give positive feedback, and because of that Jonathon now felt like he was back in high school.   
  
But when Rose pulled him closer and started to run her fingers through his hair, he felt that perhaps Reinette was wrong. Very, very wrong. Because Rose was kissing him like her life depended on it, and he felt like maybe his life depended on this kiss right now too.   
  
When their lips parted for a moment, he leaned back, just the tiniest of bits, to look down at her. Her lips were even fuller, well kissed and her eyes looked hungry for more. He was sure that he looked the exact same way. After each had caught their breath, they kissed again, even more passionate than before, it was even possible. He hugged her closer, not wanting to let go.   
  
 _So hold on to me tonight._  
  
Hold on, I promise it will be alright.   
  
‘Cause we’re stronger here together,   
  
Than we could ever be alone.   
  
Just hold on to me,   
  
Don’t you ever let me go.   
  
“Rose!” someone shouted. It was a male’s voice and Jonathon honestly thought that he would kill whoever it was for ruining their moment.   
  
Rose pulled back, giving space between them. She looked up at the door where there was an outline of a man, probably a bit older than Rose, but not by much, was standing there.   
  
“Mickey?” Rose asked, a bit out of breath. Jonathon bit his lip to keep from grinning.   
  
“Rose, what are you doing?” the young man, Mickey, sounded very lost and confused.   
  
She looked at Mickey before looking back at Jonathon. “Thanks for the dance, Doctor,” she said before walking back up the stairs and leaving Jonathon alone on the front yard. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Michael Buble's Hold On


	7. Chapter 7

_It was you! I met you and we talked and danced and kissed…  
IT WAS YOU!!!   
  
*  
  
Yes, yes it was.   
  
*  
  
Why didn’t you tell me?   
  
*  
  
What was I suppose to say? That I knew you, but from the future? That though we never officially met until that evening, I knew so much about you that I feel like I’ve known you forever, while you don’t know anything about me?   
You would have thought I was crazy. Or drunk. Or both.   
  
*  
  
Okay, maybe, but…I liked you. You should have said something.   
  
*  
  
How? You were with your boyfriend!   
  
*  
  
Who you knew I was miserable with! You, mister, are a coward.   
  
*  
  
I am not a coward! I didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of you, alright? I wanted to make a good impression and telling you that I knew you from your future was going to make me look insane.   
  
*  
  
I think I would have believed you.  
  
*  
  
No, you wouldn’t have.   
  
*  
  
Yes, I would have! I know how my brain works, Jonathon! I would have accepted it!   
  
*  
  
You would have thought I lost my marbles, Rose, anyone would have.   
  
*  
  
I’m not just anyone! I’m Rose Tyler, and I’m telling you I would have accepted the fact that you knew me from my future!   
  
*  
  
I’m done talking about this, okay? We’re getting nowhere.   
  
*  
  
We’re getting nowhere because you won’t agree with me!   
  
*  
  
Because you're wrong!   
  
*  
  
I am not!_  
  
*  
  
“Great!” Jonathon yelled sarcastically to his empty (except for K-9) house. “Our first fight!”   
  
Jonathon dropped Rose’s last letter as well as his pad and pen on the kitchen table before sitting down and groaning. Yesterday had been the best day of his life and today he was getting yelled at (well, not really, but he figured the exclamation points were making her point) for being a coward and not talking. He stands by what he said though, that she would have considered him crazy for talking like that. What he said was good, he thought, enough to get him a kiss–which is an understatement, really–and not give away anything from the future.   
  
Jonathon mumbled angrily to the refrigerator, still believing that he was in the right, when he opened the door and realized that he needed to go to the store. Now.   
  
Grabbing his keys, he walked out the door and drove towards the local supermarket. However, when he was in the car park, Donna called him, asking if he wanted to do dinner that night, at her place. She wanted Lee and Jonathon to actually have a meal together and talk without there being loud music or people around them that neither of them knew.   
  
Agreeing to that, Jonathon figured that he could stop on the store in the city on his way home, seeing how his diner was already planned out.   
  
The evening was fun, Jonathon had to admit. Lee was really quiet, which just made Donna look like she was louder than she actually was. But he was pleasant and when he did get a word in, he made very good conversation. But unlike others Jonathon knew, Lee didn’t mind when Donna interrupted him or finished off a story. Sometimes he looked relieved, as though that responsibility was off his hands.   
  
When he was leaving, Jonathon asked where the nearest supermarket was, remembering that he needed to buy groceries. After Donna told him the directions, he got into his car and drove to it.   
  
He needed basic things, milk, bread, eggs, etc. The Captain Crunch cereal was because he was a bachelor and what’s the fun in being a bachelor if you can’t eat kids food every once in a while?   
  
It was while he was looking at produce that he accidentally got hit with a cart. “Oh, geez!” a man said, running over. “It got away from me!”   
The man was shorter than Jonathon, with a blonde reducing hairline and clothes that looked secondhand. His eyes, however, his light brown eyes looked very familiar.   
  
“Sorry, mate!” the man said, pulling the cart away. “Hope I didn’t hurt you.”   
  
“Nope,” Jonathon said, though he was pretty sure that his hip was going to have a bruise on it. “All good.”   
  
The man nodded and started walking towards the door. “Oh, God, is it raining?” He said it low enough not to be overheard, but he was still standing near Jonathon.   
  
Jonathon didn’t think the man was talking to him, but for some reason he felt the need to respond. “Yeah. The weathermen said it might.”   
  
“I never listen to them. I think they always get it wrong. My wife, though, Jackie, she believes every word they say. Can’t tell you how many snowstorms I had to prepare for and nothing happened.” Jonathon didn’t know how to respond, so he just nodded. The man didn’t really wait for response before saying, “And my favorite rain jacket, absolutely perfect with this heat, well my daughter took it and then lost it! I told her not to take it, but she never listens to me. She’s nineteen, at least, she will be in a couple of weeks, and thinks she knows everything.”   
  
Jonathon stopped listening about midway through that speech. Rain jacket? Daughter lost it? Nineteen?   
  
No way. It can’t be.   
  
Jonathon wondered what the odds were to be standing right next to–and having a conversation with–Rose’s father. He tried thinking of his name, wondering if Rose had ever mentioned it. She didn’t talk about her father that much, just bits and pieces scattered throughout her letters, but he knew that jacket the father spoke of. It was hanging in the foyer of his house, right next to his umbrellas and light jackets.   
  
Rose’s father shook his head. “Anyway, I’m sorry about before. The cart, I mean. I’m Pete, by the way. Pete Tyler.” He held out his hand.   
  
“Jonathon Smith,” he said as he took Pete’s hand.   
  
“You getting ready for a party, Jonathon?” Pete asked with a smirk, looking down at Jonathon’s groceries. Besides the milk, bread, and eggs there were also two boxes of children’s cereal, a case of beer, an eight pack of hotdogs, and three different kinds of crisps.   
  
“No. I’m a bachelor, so…” Jonathon finished with a shrug.   
  
Pete laughed. “Ah, those were the days. When buying food didn’t mean having always to be healthy. My wife, Jackie, is worried I’m going to have a heart attack, yet she sends me out to get the food. And if I get a case of beer, I’ll never hear the end of it. Rose, though, she would be the one helping me pick out all the junk food. Especially chips, she has a weakness for those.”   
When Rose’s name was mentioned, Jonathon paid more attention, desperate for any information on her that he could get.   
  
Jonathon nodded, as though he knew exactly what Pete was talking about, but for obvious reasons he didn’t. And though he wanted to know more about Rose, ask something about her, he didn’t want to come across as weird, stalker man, so he just let the conversation drop.   
  
“Anyway,” Pete said after a moment of silence. “I’m sorry about the cart. Again. Didn’t see you, honestly. I should be getting back to my house with my plain groceries.” He pushed the cart towards the cashier. “Nice meeting you, Jonathon.”   
  
“You too…Pete.”   
  
Jonathon stood there for a second, trying to collect his thoughts. He just met Rose’s father, who in three years will die. He can’t remember if she ever mentioned how it happened, but he’s pretty sure it wasn’t a heart attack.   
Sometimes knowing the ending really was horrible.   
  
But one thing became really clear: he had to tell Rose. How could he not? He had to tell her, tonight. Their little argument before was petty and idiotic. Rose needed this, needed to hear about a time when her father was alive and well. That she would want to know.   
  
He paid for his groceries and left, the trip home passing in a blur. His mind kept thinking about what could he possibly say to Rose? Should he just come out and say it, or should he ease himself in. After all, for Rose her father was dead, not to be heard from again. To get a letter that someone spoke to him, had a conversation, would probably be daunting.   
  
After he brought in all of his shopping bags, he grabbed his pen and pad and quickly wrote down what he wanted to say. Then, when he finished, he looked down at it, groaned, ripped it out of the pad and as a crumbled ball, threw it towards the garbage can. He did it four more times before he finally settled on the perfect letter.   
  
It was well after midnight by the time the letter actually went into the mailbox, and he wasn’t sure if she would come around the next day to see a letter from him, but he had it there, for when she was ready.   
  
~*~   
  
 _I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to be frank: I met your father this evening.  
  
I was in town to meet Donna and her new boyfriend, Lee, for dinner. Afterwards, I went to a supermarket to pick up some things. His cart bumped right into me. He apologized profusely, claiming it got away from him. And then he started talking about all sorts of things, one of which was the weather.(And this is how I knew it was your father:) He talked about how it was raining and he had the perfect rain jacket, “but my daughter took it and then she lost it! She’s nineteen, at least she will be in a couple of weeks, and thinks she knows everything!”   
  
He’s such a nice man, Rose. Really, he is. It was really a pleasure to meet him.   
I couldn’t tell him anything. Why would I tell him that I knew his daughter, but only before she actually knew me–not counting meeting the night before, of course.   
  
I wanted you to know because…because though you never told me exactly how your father died, I kind of pieced it together myself. Something obviously happened, something traumatic. But I wanted you to know that where I am, he’s alive and well.   
  
My gift to you, from the past to the future. A new memory of your father.   
  
-Jonathon   
  
P.S. — Please don’t be mad about the telling-not-telling situation last night (or three years ago, from your perspective). I’m sorry. Maybe I should have said something.   
  
*  
  
A hit-and-run. He was killed 29 January 2013 due to a hit-and-run. No one was with him when he died.  
  
I miss him, Jonathon, every day I miss him more, and I don’t think it’s even possible, but it is. I just want to see my father again, hold him one more time.   
  
You don’t know how lucky you are that you met him. He was a wonderful man, a fantastic father, and I wish I could have been there, Jonathon, next to you when you met him. I can’t believe that you did, though. It boggles my mind that you actually met my father, spoke to him.   
  
And he was well? He spoke of me? And he talked about that stupid jacket–which you still haven’t given back to me, by the way. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?   
  
Your letter means everything to me, Jonathon. Everything. Words cannot describe how happy I am right now. And I know this has tear stains on it, but ignore those. They are tears of happiness.   
  
\- Rose   
  
P.S. — When I truly thought about it, I realized you were right. I wouldn’t have believed you. Forgive me?   
  
*  
  
Rose, I will always forgive you.   
  
I’ve thought about it. I want to meet you. Again. Soon.   
  
*  
  
How?   
  
*  
  
I remember asking you out on a date, a date that was never fulfilled. Shall we try again?   
  
*  
  
What are you going to do? Make a reservation three years in advance?   
  
*  
  
I’ve had worse ideas.   
  
*  
  
Jonathon, that means you have to wait three years for this date. For me, it will be no time at all.   
  
*  
  
I don’t care! I want to have dinner with you! The you that actually knows me, knows everything about me! Meeting you before was…brilliant, but I need more.   
  
Please?   
  
*  
  
Are you really going to beg?   
  
*  
  
I am down on my knees here. Please? Please? Pretty please?   
  
*  
  
Okay, okay, okay. Stop begging. There is no need to beg.   
  
Yes, of course I will go out on a date with you. Just tell me where.   
  
*  
  
You pick. Anywhere you want.   
*  
  
Luna Nuova. _  
  
~*~   
  
Jonathon walked into Luna Nuova with his head held high, though the request he had in mind was probably going to get him laughed out of the restaurant. But he had heard about this place through Donna. Apparently Lee finally asked Donna out on a date and this was where he took her. She kept raving about this place, telling Jonathon that everything about this place was pure perfection. So, he might as well give it a shot.   
  
Since it was right before the diner rush, the place was almost empty, except for a few couples here and there. Taking a deep breath and running his fingers through his hair, he walked up to the hostess.   
  
“Hello, welcome to Luna Nuova,” she smiled. Her long brown hair was put up in a tidy ponytail and her suit looked like she used her entire life savings on it. She must be making some big bucks here. “How many are in your party?”   
  
“Actually, I’m making a reservation.”  
  
“Oh,” the woman said. She opened up the book. “When and what time, sir?”   
  
“Thirtieth of July.” The woman nodded as she flipped to the page. “2013,” he finished.   
  
The woman stopped what she was doing and looked up. “I’m sorry?” she asked, trying not to let her confusion show. After all, this was one of the best restaurants in London for a reason. Something like confusion was not something she was probably used to.   
  
“Thirtieth of July, 2013. It’s an important date.” He gave a hopeful smile.   
  
“You are aware that that is in  _three years_ , right?”   
  
“Yes, I know. Important date.”   
  
The woman tried not to let it show that she thought perhaps he had a couple screws loose. “Very well, sir. And your name?”   
  
“Smith. Jonathon Smith.”   
  
~*~   
  
Though Rose always preferred comfort over fashion, tonight was an exception. She had to look her best, feel her best, be the best that she could be.   
  
She knew that Jonathon couldn’t care less about what she wore. If she came in a potato sack, he probably would still think she was the most beautiful woman. But she wanted to make the effort, so she went all out.   
  
Pulling almost every outfit of her closet, knowing somewhere deep in there was a dress she bought many years ago but never actually wore. Now would be the perfect opportunity.   
  
Finally she found it. It was a navy blue dress that had a u-shaped neckline lined with diamonds. The dress was above her knee–well above it, in her mother’s opinion. But Rose felt like a million bucks in it, and that’s the point, right? With a pair of nude colored shoes, Rose only had to worry about the rest of her appearance.   
  
She curled her hair, pulling into a fancy side-ponytail and put a decorative clip in the back to hold any loose hair. After putting on a bit of eyeliner, mascara, blush, and lipstick, Rose was ready to go.   
  
Grabbing her matching navy blue clutch, Rose walked into the living room, twirling. “Well?” she asked her mother who was sitting on the couch. “What do you think?”   
  
“You look gorgeous, Sweetie. But I do think that skirt is a bit too short.”   
Rose rolled her eyes. “It’s fine, Mum.”   
  
Jackie stood up and picked some lint off of Rose’s shoulder. “Now, who is this fellow who is not picking you up?”  
  
“His name is Jonathon, Mum. And…he’s an acquaintance.”   
  
K-9, a usually very quiet dog, started barking at the mention of Jonathon’s name. Even after three years, K-9 knew the name of his owner.   
  
Jackie’s eyes went up to the ceiling, as though she was asking God for help. When she looked back down at Rose, Jackie said, “Well, if you are dressed like that for an  _acquaintance_ , I don’t want to see how you dress for a man you really like.”   
  
Rose blushed. With a kiss on the cheek to her mother, she walked out the door with a cry of, “Don’t wait up for me!”   
  
The whole way to the restaurant, Rose’s hands shook. And though she knew that she had to pay attention to the road, she couldn’t help but wonder how they should act when they meet. Should they shake hands? Hug? Kiss? Attack each other and get arrested for public indecency? She smiled at that one.   
  
Rose wasn’t sure when it was, but somewhere along all the letters being exchanged she fell in love with Jonathon. Though they only met once, she barely remembers the encounter. Though the more she thought about it, the more she did remember. Like she remembered giving him a huge smile because he called her “brilliant” and dancing under the stars. And though she did remember his hair–he wasn’t joking, it was some really great hair–she couldn’t remember his face that clearly. It had been three years since she last saw him, and though she liked him, she never thought that this man would change her entire life.   
  
She found parking with no problem and with her head held high, she walked to the restaurant. There were a load of people waiting outside, but she walked up to the hostess stand where a pretty young woman with brown hair stood. She smiled as Rose approached.   
  
“Hello. Do you have a reservation?”  
  
Really hoping that Jonathon was a man of his word–and everything so far has proved that he is indeed–Rose said, “Yes. Rose. Rose Tyler. For two.”   
  
The woman checked the names. “No, I’m sorry.”   
  
“Try Jonathon Smith.”   
  
The woman looked down again and Rose instantly knew that she saw the name because the woman looked up with her eyes wide. “I remember him,” she said, as though surprised that she should remember a patron. “I remember thinking…” the woman stopped talking, biting her lip.   
  
Rose smiled. “That he was crazy?” she guessed. The woman gave a slight nod. Rose laughed. She knew how ridiculous it had to be, asking for a reservation three years in advance. “I know. But he insisted. Anyway, his name is there?”   
The woman nodded. “Yes. He’s not here yet, but you can be seated, if you like.” Rose nodded and followed the woman inside after she grabbed two menus. The restaurant was so beautiful, Rose had to refrain from stopping herself to look around. It had a very modern feel; two walls were bricks while the other two were painted. The tables were all a dark brown, as well as the chairs. Each seat had a plate and a wine glass on the table and of course, the utensils. The decorations on the wall were simple, yet added to the overall modernism of the place.   
  
Rose hoped that, for Jonathon, it would be worth the wait.   
  
The hostess sat Rose down at a table next to one of the brick walls. The table was set for two, and though they were still in the midst of the restaurant, they could be secluded in their own little world. Rose liked that idea.   
  
She glanced at her watch, noting that she was five minutes early. With wanting to get here so badly, Rose didn’t even think about how early she could be. Her heart refused to calm down; she was sure that it was doing a samba. Her head was light and she was so pumped with adrenaline, she could feel like she could just take off running.   
  
“Hello,” a young man, about twenty or so, said as he walked over to the table. “My name is Adam, I’ll be your waiter this evening. Are you waiting for someone?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Okay, than. Would you like something to drink while you wait?”   
  
“Water, please,” Rose said, knowing that any alcohol at the moment would be a bad idea.   
  
Adam nodded before walking off.   
  
Picking up the menu, she looked over her choices before finally deciding. When she lowered the menu she noticed that Jonathon was now ten minutes late. That didn’t discourage her, though. Parking was horrible in the area, so he was probably just looking for a spot now.   
  
Adam had long ago dropped off her water, and had come over twice asking if she was ready to order. Both times she insisted that she will wait for her date. After thirty minutes, however, Rose’s frantic heart started to lower. Where was he? A horrible thought crept into Rose’s mind: was he standing her up? No. No, that was not Jonathon. Jonathon wouldn’t stand her up. That wasn’t him, at all. He was a kind man. A considerate one. He wouldn’t just leave her high and dry.   
  
After an hour, though, Rose started to get worried. With no sign of him, Rose tried to fade into the background, but she couldn’t. Adam kept coming over, asking her if everything was alright. Maybe she should call her date, ask if he’s okay.   
  
Rose couldn’t exactly say that she didn’t have his phone number due to the fact that since they were living three years apart, who knew if their phone could even contact each other. She just told him that it was a blind date, and she was sure that he was coming. He was reliable, she insisted. She knew that to be a fact.   
  
“Not too reliable, I see,” Adam muttered under his breath. Rose’s eyes narrowed. There went his tip.   
  
An hour and a half and still no sign of him. She really wanted him to burst through the doors, apologizing like crazy. She would be mad, no doubt about that. Tell him his timing was horrible, really stinking horrible.   
  
But after two hours, she was more worried than anything else.   
  
She started playing these awful scenarios in her head, the next one worse than the one before. What if he was in a car accident? Or an emergency at work? (Well, he worked in a college that was off for the summer, so she doubted about that) What if something happened to his best friends, Donna or Jack? He never mentioned any family, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have any. What if something happened to them?   
  
Rose didn’t want to admit, but the ones that made her sick to her stomach were: what if he forgot? What if he got mad at her for something? Or–worse of all–what if he just didn’t care about her?   
  
No, that last one couldn’t be true. It couldn’t. He did care about her. He wanted to meet her; this was whole his idea. Why would he arrange it and then back out of it? That didn’t make any sense. But him not showing up didn’t make any sense whatsoever.   
  
At the mark of hour number three, Adam came over to her. “Miss, I think you have to face facts. You’ve been stood up.”   
  
Rose didn’t want to agree with him. She wanted him to shut up. But she had to face facts, just like he said. Jonathon stood her up.   
  
After giving a slight nod, Rose gathered her things and laid down enough money to cover the one glass of wine she had around two hours. Then, as quickly as possible, she sprinted out of the restaurant, keeping her head down. Tears were already falling, and she didn’t want anyone to question her.   
  
When she finally reached her car, she opened the door as quickly as she could and jumped in before crying hysterically for the next hour.


	8. Chapter 8

_You weren’t there. You never came.  
  
*  
  
What? WHAT?   
  
Something must have happened. I’m sorry.   
  
Maybe we can try again. I’ve got three more years. We’ll meet. I’m sure of it.  
  
*  
  
No, Jonathon. I don’t think so. It’s too late. For me, it already happened. We keep…missing each other. It’s just not going to work.   
  
Maybe — maybe we’re not meant to be together.   
  
*  
  
Don’t say that! I may not be sure of many things in this life, Rose, but I know that we are meant for each other. Otherwise, how could this happen? How could you reach across time (and in some aspects, space) and be able to contact me?   
  
Don’t give up on me, Rose Tyler. Don’t be rude.   
  
*  
  
I’m not being rude, Jonathon, I’m being logical.   
  
I’m not sure of many things either, but I do know that life is too short. My father died much too early in his life. He was struck before he even knew what happened. And the same thing happened to a man in Piccadilly Circus a month ago. A man was hit by a car. Amy’s fiancé, Rory Williams, works at the local hospital and he said the man didn’t even make it there.   
  
What if we had to wait our entire lives to finally meet?  
  
*  
  
Then we will wait our entire lives. I will do it, Rose, make no doubt about that.   
  
I will wait for you.   
  
*  
  
Oh Jonathon —   
  
Sometimes, you make life so impossible that I don’t even know which way is up any more.   
  
But I can’t.   
  
I came to the house that afternoon, so many months ago, trying to connect again to my father. Trying to come to terms that he was gone, and no matter how many times I tried to look for him, he wasn’t coming back. I came to the house to get lost, but instead I found you. And I did get lost, but in a different sense. I lost myself in you. I let myself emerge in this fantastical story about two people connecting over time and somehow through these letters, we ended up somewhere the only we knew. The middle of nowhere. Your letters took me to a place that I had never been before, and a place I very much want to go back to. But I can’t.   
  
I believed, Jonathon, just like in those damn Disney films, that if I wished hard enough, I would finally get my desire. That I would somehow get you. And we really could meet in our favorite place.   
  
And I wished so hard that night, Jonathon. The night of our date. I wished and wished and wished, and do you know what I realized? Wishing sucks. It gets all your hopes up for something that will probably never happen.   
  
I need to focus on my life, Jonathon, and not wrap myself up in this world anymore. As much as I may hope that you’ll just come into my doorway all smiles and laughter, I need to focus on the fact that it will never happen. I have to stop wishing.   
  
What I’m trying to say is I don’t think we should write to each other anymore. Please, don’t contact me. Don’t write me anymore letters. Don’t try to find me. I need to live in my present, just like you need to live in yours.   
  
I wish you all the best of luck, Jonathon. Because you deserve it. So, very much.   
  
All my love,   
  
Rose_   
  
~*~  
  
Jonathon wrote letter after letter after letter. He refused to accept Rose’s logic, though it did make perfect sense. It seemed unhealthy to keep believing in something that in no logical way could come true, but wasn’t that the whole point to wishing? To believe in the impossible?   
  
Every day he put a letter in the mailbox, hoping that she would change her mind and come back. But after two weeks, not one of his letters were answered. By this point, he had nearly fourteen letters in there, ranging from him begging her to reconsider, to getting angry and frustrated, to apologizing for being angry and frustrated and how sorry he was that he didn’t show up that night to please, please tell him something, anything to let him know she was doing okay. He cared about Rose a lot. He loved her. It couldn’t just end like this. He couldn’t just get a ‘Dear John’ letter and then, poof, Rose was gone from his life. That couldn’t happen.   
  
He refused to let it.   
  
But nothing he did helped. Neither Jack nor Donna knew how to help him. Jack told him to give her some space, that obviously he really hurt her that night and maybe she just needed some time to think. Donna claimed that he was a prat for not going that night, but that Jack was right and maybe she just needs some time.   
  
Jonathon wanted so badly to go into the future and shake himself and ask why did he not go? How could he let this beautiful wonderful creature think that he didn’t care enough about her to go to her?   
  
Nothing made sense to Jonathon. And spending almost all of those two weeks at home, waiting for something that was never coming didn’t help matters. So when he got a message from Joan Redforn, the secretary of his department, asking him if he wanted to go out from some coffee, he thought that perhaps a new change of scenery might do him some good.   
  
So the following day, Jonathon sat across from Joan at a coffee shop near King’s College. Joan was a lovely woman, with a warm face and a shy but bright smile. She always gave him a hand at work, ready to help with any files he needed, or if he needed to have something copied. Jonathon found her to be a good friend, even if he never really socialized with her outside of work. Oh, he always bought her flowers for her birthday and gave her something small for Christmas, but she wasn’t exactly the first person he called for an evening out on the town.   
  
But still, Joan was good company and he felt bad that he hadn’t seen her since the last meeting at work way back in May.   
  
However, though he knew that this was good for him, his mind was a million miles away. Or rather, they were three years into the future, wondering what Rose was doing in her spare time. Wondering if she was still angry at him. Well, not angry exactly, but hurt and confused and really frustrated. Because God knows, that’s how Jonathon felt at the moment. He refused to give up on their relationship while it seemed that Rose was chucking it all in.   
  
“Am I keeping you from something?” Joan asked. He quickly looked at her and saw that her bottom lip was disappearing into her mouth. That was usually her reaction when a student was giving her a hard time and she had to hold her tongue and play nice.   
  
“What? No. No!” He straighten in his seat. “Sorry. It’s just…sorry. That was rude. I’m listening. I swear I am.”   
  
“I asked you how your summer was going,” Joan said, a bit miffed, but obviously fighting it. “Have you done anything interesting?”   
  
 _‘Oh, where do I begin?’_  he thought. “I moved,” he said, taking a sip of his iced coffee. “I bought a house, on the lake. It’s beautiful.”   
  
“Where, exactly?”   
  
“Canvey Island.”   
  
“Oh, but that’s so far from here. Surely you must have a long drive.”   
  
Jonathon shook his head. “No. I mean, yeah it’s almost an hour drive, but still. It’s worth it.”   
  
“Did you have a house party?”   
  
“No. But I didn’t want one. I’m not really the party type.”   
  
She nodded and started talking about a vacation she went on with a girlfriend of hers. Jonathon tried to pay attention, really he did. But his mind kept slipping back to Rose. If he was honest, his mind never strayed from there. All he did was think about her, wondering what she was thinking, doing at this moment. Was she at the house? Was she placing something in the mailbox? Did she even check to see his letters? He felt the need to write another one, asking her to please, please, contact him. He just wanted to make sure she was okay.   
  
And even though both Donna and Jack knew this…situation that he was currently in, he wanted another’s opinion. Maybe someone could explain how this whole situation was working exactly, or even why. Why would he be in contact with someone from three years into his future? But maybe Joan can help him now with his situation. Maybe she would have an opinion on whether or not Rose was right in her logic. He knew both Jack and Donna’s opinion, but maybe someone else’s would do him some good.   
  
Before he fully thought out the pros and cons, he leaned forward and interrupted Joan by asking, “Do you believe in time travel?”   
  
Stunned by the unusual question, Joan remained silent and only opened her mouth to asked, “What? I mean, excuse me?”   
  
“Time travel. Do you think it’s possible?”   
  
She gave a nervous laugh as she said, “You are the one who studied physics, not me. You would be the one who has an answer to that.”   
  
“That’s just it, until recently I would have believed it to be a load of bollocks. But now…”   
  
“What happened recently?”   
  
Jonathon looked at her for a moment before whispering, “You are going to think I have gone mad. And, perhaps to a certain extent, I have. But that doesn’t stop the fact that it has happened.”   
  
“Jonathon, what in the world are you talking about?”   
  
“That house I moved into, the one on the lake? When I moved in there was a note in the mail from the previous tenant, only it wasn’t from the previous tenant, it’s from the tenant that is going to come after me.”   
  
Joan looked confused, which was an understatement really. Jonathon was sure that what he just said made little to no sense at all.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Joan said after a moment, trying to reason it out in her head. She closed her eyes and leaned forward a bit. “The previous tenant wrote a note to you but it wasn’t the previous tenant, it was the tenant that is coming after you?” She opened her eyes to see Jonathon nod. “I don’t understand.”   
  
“Neither do I, to an extent. But I have been…corresponding with a woman three years into the future.”   
  
Joan, a woman who was exceptionally well-mannered, a woman who always spoke in full sentences, and sounded as though she just stepped out of 1912, dropped her manners for a moment and asked, “Huh?”   
  
Jonathon leaned back in his chair. “I know. I don’t understand. But we have been writing to each other for a little over a month now. And we agreed to meet, you know in her present time, three years from now. And I made the reservation and everything, but she said I never showed up. I stood her up. But I don’t understand why. I like Rose. A lot. Now, three years in her past. Why would I not go to her when I had the chance?”   
  
Joan’s eyes almost crossed, trying to figure out what exactly he was talking about. She leaned closer to the table and held her forehead in her hand. “Okay, let me see if I have gotten this straight. This woman–Rose?” At Jonathon’s nod, Joan continued, “Rose lives in 2013, where she is writing these letters to you. And you agreed to meet in 2013. But the day of the date, you never showed up?” Once again, Jonathon nodded. She sat up straighter. “I really don’t know what to tell you. But something must have happened.”   
  
“That’s just it!” Jonathon proclaimed loudly. “I want to know what exactly happened!”   
  
“Something that was bad enough to stop yourself from going to this appointment. Do you think you would have forgotten?”   
  
The day itself was burned into his brain. There was no way that he could have forgotten that date. “No.”   
  
Joan picked up her cup of tea. “I hope you’re okay in the future,” she said simply before taking a sip of her drink.   
  
~*~  
  
Something was bothering Amy. It was like an inch in a place you just can’t reach, and you know you should just forget it and move on, but that just makes you think about it more and it gets even more frustrating. Amy wasn’t sure what exactly her inch was, but it was bothering her to no end.   
  
It had nothing to do with Rory or her job or her aunt. It was more with Rose. Amy warned Rose not to get too involved with this mystery man, but Rose didn’t listen and was now hurt because of him.   
  
Maybe that was what bothered her; that this Jonathon bloke hurt Rose. But, if what Rose had said about the letters was true, than it didn’t make any sense. According to Rose, Jonathon was insistent on them meeting. He even embarrassed himself and made a reservation to a restaurant three years in advance. But then to not show up? It just didn’t add up right. It seemed like Jonathon was a good man, an honest man. So why did he stand-up Rose?   
  
If Amy was anything, she was extremely nosy. ‘Keep Out’ signs didn’t faze her in the least. ‘No Trespassing’ just made her want to go in even more. It was the one thing that Rory always complained about, but Amy knew that he secretly loved it. But when Amy realized what exactly her problem was, she decided to do some investigating. And she went to the one place everyone who does research goes to: Google.   
  
Sure it was the easy way, but hey, if it does the job…  
  
She typed in Jonathon’s name and tried not to groan when 17,946,381 results appeared. Why couldn’t he have an uncommon name? But piecing together what Rose had told her, Amy typed in ‘doctor’ ‘college professor’ and ‘London.’ That narrowed down the results to 56,436. Okay. Progress.  
  
At the bottom of the first page, Amy found what she was looking for. King’s College London, a webpage devoted to the faulty. She quickly clicked on it and zoomed down to ‘S’.   
  
There was a picture of Jonathon, along with a bio. According to this, he was still working at the school. Amy decided to make a phone call.   
  
It wasn’t long before she highly regretted that idea.   
  
~*~   
  
Amy dragged her feet to Rose’s apartment, knowing that she had to do this, but wanting very much to just hike it back home. The news of what happened to Jonathon weighed heavily on Amy’s mind, and though she hated to have her best friend know the truth, it had to be better than constantly wondering what had happened. Amy was sure that Rose was torturing herself with ‘What if’s, especially since the truth was probably worse than she could imagine.   
  
Knocking on the door took Herculean effort, but Amy did it anyway. Jackie answered and upon seeing her daughter’s best friend’s face, asked with much concern, “Amy, sweetheart, what happened?”   
  
Amy shook her head, not giving a verbal answer. She knew that Jackie knew very little to nothing about Jonathon. It had to remain a secret for a little while longer. “I’m fine, Jackie. Really, I am. I just need to see Rose.”   
  
“Rory okay?” Jackie asked.   
  
Amy nodded. “Yeah, he’s fine. Rose here?”   
  
“In her bedroom. She’s always in her bedroom, doing God’s knows what.” Jackie walked into the living room, where Amy could hear the telly on.   
  
She walked over to Rose’s door and gently knocked. Rose called out to come in, which Amy did, taking a deep breath.   
  
“Hey, Amy.” Rose was standing beside her bed, putting away her laundry. She looked miserable. Amy knew that Rose had barely gone to the house in the past couple of weeks, because of the whole date fiasco. Amy had no idea how Rose was able to not breathe a word of what happened to her mother, but she had to give Rose credit. It was no secret that Rose really like Jonathon, and not showing up for their date hurt Rose in a way that Amy had never seen before. Rose cried on Amy’s shoulder for what seemed like hours, asking over and over again why didn’t he come? Did she write something horrible that he just couldn’t forgive her? Or did he take one look at her and walk out the door? Of all the possibilities, that one hurts Rose the most.   
  
However, Amy had a horrible feeling that the truth was going to be even worse.   
  
“Are you okay?” Rose asked, looking concerned.   
  
“Yeah, I’m fine.”   
  
“Rory?”   
  
“He’s fine. I need to tell you something.”   
  
Rose put the shirt she was folding on the bed and turned to face her friend, giving her her full attention. “What’s going on?”   
  
“You might want to sit.”   
  
“I’m fine standing. Amy, you’re making me nervous. Just tell me what’s going on.”   
  
Amy looked away, not sure where to even begin. Should she just say it, or should she walk her way into it? Her fingers twisted around and she started to bite her lip before Rose almost yelled, “Amy! Tell me! Please! The suspense is killing me! What is going on?”   
  
Amy decided to walk her way into it, so she took a deep breath. “I was curious on why Jonathon didn’t show up the other night.” Rose took a deep breath, almost like a gasp, when Amy said Jonathon’s name, but she continued as though she didn’t hear anything. “I mean, from everything you tell me, he seems like a decent guy. So why didn’t he show up? So, I decided to investigate. Long story short, I called his college, you know–”  
  
“King’s College, yeah,” Rose said impatiently, “What did they say?”   
  
Taking a deep breath, Amy said, “Do you remember one day, about a month or two ago, we were sitting in Piccadilly Circus? And we saw someone get hit by a car?”   
  
Rose suddenly paled. Amy assumed she knew where she was going with this. Though she never took her eyes off of Amy, Rose sat down on the bed, squishing her clothes.   
  
“Yeah,” Rose whispered. “Yeah, I remember that.”   
  
Tears gathered in Amy’s eyes and she blurted out before she thought better of it, “It was Jonathon, Rose. Jonathon was hit by the car. That’s why he never showed up, Rose. It was because Jonathon was killed.” 


	9. Chapter 9

Rose cried for what seemed to be hours. Amy continually soothed her back, reminding her to breathe, but Rose was going hysterical, her cheeks a bright red, her make-up running down her face. At one point, Amy ran to the bathroom to get the box of tissues from in there and called to Jackie to bring in a brown lunch bag to help calm Rose down.   
  
Jackie came running in–brown bag in hand–wondering what in the world happened. Rose couldn’t speak coherently, sobbing every two seconds, so Amy told as much as she could of what has happened to Rose for the past two months.   
  
To put it mildly, Jackie was surprised that a) Rose never mentioned this man and b) had kept it a secret for so long. But looking at her daughter’s reaction to the death of this man, Jackie knew that these feelings Rose had for him were not to be taken lightly.   
  
“Maybe you could write to him,” Jackie said, handing Rose yet another tissue. She had used up at least twenty already, and they were all scattered by their feet. “Tell him not to go to Piccadilly Circus that day.”   
  
“Mum, haven’t you ever seen  _Back to the Future_? You can’t mess with the past because that affects the future!” Rose said, before blowing her nose again. Her cheeks were a vibrant red and were starting to become stiff.   
  
Jackie rubbed Rose’s back, at a loss for what to say.   
  
“Maybe you can talk to someone. Didn’t he mention family or friends? Find out what he was doing since you last spoke,” Amy suggested.   
  
Though she couldn’t remember if Jonathon ever mentioned family, Rose remembered him often mentioning two friends in particular, Donna and Jack. But she couldn’t remember their last names. Was it Donna Harkness? Jack Noble? Or was that backwards? Either way, Amy was right: she had to get in contact with them. Find out what exactly happened. Why did Jonathon just walk into the middle of the street? Did he find someone else? Was he happy, in the end?   
  
After mentioning to both Amy and Jackie that she wanted to meet at least one of his friends, they set off looking for ways to contact one of them. Rose looked through all of her letters from Jonathon, looking for a full name. Finally she found it: Donna Noble, he wrote. His best friend, Donna Noble. Rose decided to contact Donna, wondering if she could help answer some questions.   
  
After looking for it online, they found Donna’s name through a temp agency. Getting the phone number, Rose called her. But as the phone rang, she wondered what in the world could she possibly say? Did Jonathon tell her about these letters? Did he ever mention Rose? If he did, maybe Donna hated her because of her basically dumping Jonathon. When Donna finally answered, Rose felt like she was going to be sick, but gathered the courage to speak.   
  
“Hello,” she said. “Is this Donna Noble?” After the woman on the phone replied in the positive, Rose continued. “My name is Rose Tyler. I believe you know–”  
  
“Wait, are you  _the_  Rose Tyler? Jonathon’s  _Rose Tyler_?” Donna interrupted.   
  
Rose gulped. Apparently Jonathon spoke of her. “Yes. Yes, I am.”  
  
There was a pause. “I think we need to meet,” was all she said.   
  
“Yeah, I mean, yes, I think so too. When and where?”   
  
“Now? In the coffee shop off A4?”   
  
“Um, yeah. Yeah, that would work.”   
  
After she hung up, Rose went to wash her face and get ready to go. She gave Amy a huge hug, thanking her for telling Rose what she found out. “I know it wasn’t easy,” she said, after she let go, and grabbing her purse and taking a couple of steps to the door. “But I appreciate you being honest with me.”   
  
“Now you know,” Amy said. “Now you know why he didn’t come. Because he couldn’t.”   
  
Rose pressed down tears before looking at her mother. “I’ll be back in a bit, yeah?”   
  
Jackie walked over to her daughter quickly and gave her a hug. “I know this will be difficult to hear. But listen to this Lord woman.”   
  
“Noble, Mum. Her name is Donna Noble.”   
  
Jackie waved her off. “Listen to her. Maybe she can tell you a way to save Jonathon.”   
  
Hearing those words “save Jonathon” just made Rose want to cry even more. To save him would mean that he was in danger, and she didn’t want him to be in danger. Ever.   
  
She didn’t know if there was anything she could do, but maybe talking to Donna will help. She was, after all, his best friend. Rose hoped Donna could tell her what Jonathon had been up to. And she very much wished he wasn’t pining after her.   
  
Rose nodded, not knowing what else to say or do. “I’ll be back,” she said, almost in a daze, to her mother and Amy. “I’ll tell you everything when I return.”   
  
And with that, she walked out the door.   
  
~*~   
  
The coffee shop Donna recommended was tiny, but Rose was able to find a corner so that she and Donna could have some privacy.  
  
She didn’t order anything. She couldn’t with her stomach flipping all around. Instead, she just sat down, wondering if Donna was here and she just missed her. Though she knew that she met Donna, it was three years ago and she barely remembered what the woman looked like. At that point in time, she wasn’t paying attention to much of anything.   
  
A few people walked in, but none of them came near Rose. She wondered if Donna remembered what she looked like when a ginger-haired woman walked quickly into the cafe and looked around. When she noticed Rose sitting in the corner, she walked over to her and asked, “You’re her, aren’t you? You’re Rose?”   
  
Rose stood up and held out her hand. “And you’re Donna?”   
  
The other woman shook her hand and they both were seated. “I have to ask,” Rose said, once seated, “how did you know it was me? I mean, I know we met before, but there is no way you could have remembered what I looked like.”   
  
“Actually, it was the expression on your face. You look like a woman who just found out some horrible, horrible news. I took a chance.” Donna leaned forward and placed her hand gently on top of Rose’s. “I take it you just found out?”   
  
Tears filled Rose’s eyes, but she tried blinking them away. “How–” she gave a sob before catching her breath. When she thought she could speak properly, she continued. “Amy, my friend, she’s the one who investigated. You see, our date, Jonathon and mine, was scheduled two weeks ago.”   
  
“Ah,” Donna said, as though she knew exactly what Rose was referring to. “Yes, I remember him scheduling that. I thought he was daft for making a reservation three years in advance, but” she shrugged, not ending her sentence. “You were there, I take it.”   
  
Rose nodded. “Yes. But he wasn’t.” Rose leaned back in her seat, and placed her hands over her face. She gave a small sob and Donna got up to get some napkins. When she came back, Rose gratefully took a couple and wiped her eyes and nose. Donna said nothing as Rose collected herself. When she was ready, she continued. “My last note to him was horrible. I told him that talking to him, writing to him, was a fantasy and that I had to wake up. I told him not to contact me, not to write to me anymore. That I had to live my life, in my present, just like he had to live in his. I was so mean to him.”   
  
Donna lightly shook her head. “I told him not to get invested. I told him to keep a distance. He didn’t take my advice.”   
  
Rose nodded. “Yeah, my best friend said the same thing. But I didn’t listen to her either. But when I think back on that letter…” she paused and looked down, playing with the napkin in her hands. “He must have been so mad at me,” she whispered.   
  
“He was. I’m not going to lie, he was mad. But then he was confused and hurt. I think he finally saw your point and decided that you were right. But he was never really happy again, after that. He continued on with his work, continued working at King’s College. But he wasn’t the same Jonathon he was before that.”   
  
Leaning on her elbows, Rose sniffed. “Thank you for not bullshitting with me. Telling me that he went on happy as a clam to make me happy. I don’t think I would have believed you, if you said that.”   
  
“I believe in telling the truth.”   
  
“Then tell me how he died. Tell me what exactly happened.”   
  
“What do you know, exactly?”   
  
“It was Piccadilly Circus. I was there with Amy eating lunch. I just received the first letter, actually, and we were discussing it. I looked down for a second and suddenly a van hit a bus, or vice versa, and Jonathon was caught in the middle. He died…he died on his way to the hospital.”   
  
Donna listened to her side of the story, and when she was finished, took a moment before speaking. “I was there, that day. We were walking down the street, talking about things that are no longer important. And…he saw you. He saw you by the statue. He said your name. And…” Tears filled Donna’s eyes, but she continued on, wanting Rose to know. “And he just walked out, wanting to get close to you. The ninny didn’t see what was coming.”   
  
Rose took a few deep breathes. “Me,” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks. “He saw me.”   
  
“He loved you, Rose. Very much. He never threw out any of the letters you wrote to him. In fact, he never threw out any of the letters that he wrote to you, after you asked him to stop. He put them into a box and placed them in the attic.”   
  
Rose’s head popped up, and for the first time since Amy told her, her heart was racing instead of breaking. “What did you say?”   
  
“He kept all the letters he wrote to you.”   
  
“And he placed them  _where_?”   
  
“In a box in the attic of the house you both lived in.”   
  
Rose looked at Donna, really looked at her before jumping out of her seat and saying quickly, “I have — I have to go. Please, excuse me.” And without another word, she ran out of the café, knowing exactly where she had to go.   
  
Because the box.  _The box!_  The box in the attic that she never opened, because she didn’t want to invade anyone’s privacy, but in the end it didn’t matter! Because the box was for her! She never went near it, but if she did, she would have seen all those letters, every word she ever wrote to Jonathon, in there. And the letters he wrote to her, when she refused to speak to him.   
  
She knew that she probably should have called her mother, or at least Amy, but she couldn’t. Not with her heart racing and her mind spinning. What she needed more than anything was a trip to the house. Her house. His house.   
  
Their house.   
  
She hoped that there were no coppers on the road, because she was certain that she would be breaking many a law. But she couldn’t help it. The house was calling to her in a way it had never done before. Calling her to it, telling her that maybe, just maybe miracles did happen and one was happening right now. That she could hold on to Jonathon just a little bit longer, and maybe she can rewrite the past. Her words earlier echoed in her ears.  _“You can’t mess with the past because that affects the future!”_  And she knew that had to be true, in some sense. But then why was he able to contact her? Why was he able to write to her, to someone three years in her future. Maybe she was meant to save him. Maybe this was what she had to do.   
  
She had to save Jonathon.   
  
Luckily the traffic gods were on her side, because there was no construction nor were there any accidents. She got to the house in record time and ran as fast as she could to the door. It was locked, of course, but that didn’t stop her. Her mother always forgot the keys in the house after the door was locked, so her father bought one of those fake rocks to hide a key in. And Rose knew exactly where he put it, and she doubted very much that the bank knew about it.   
  
Going to the side of the house where there was a huge bush, she bent down and felt her way until she could feel the rock. Picking it up slowly, she saw that the elements of weather made the rock look almost real, but when she slid it open, she knew that it was not.   
  
Dropping the rock once the key was in her other hand, she ran back to the door and opened it. The house was completely empty, no one having used it in a very long time. But now was not to focus on the house. Now she had to focus on Jonathon. She ran to her old bedroom and pulled down the string, letting the little latter come down. She climbed up and sitting there with at least three years worth of dust on top, was a box that was taped shut. She took it down and placing it on the floor, opened the box with her key.   
  
And she gave a loud sob when she noticed what was right on top.   
  
For there was her father’s jacket. The jacket that Jonathon went to King’s Cross to get for her. She held it tightly to her, letting her tears come down before placing it lovingly to the side and continuing on.   
  
There they all were. All her letters to Jonathon. It seemed hard to believe that they only knew each other for two months, when it seems that their lives have been intertwined for years. Or maybe that was because of the whole time difference. Either way, it seems a lot longer than two months.   
  
Finally, she found them. The letters he wrote to her. By her quick count, there were fifteen. So, leaning back against the wall, she read them. All of them. The first couple were filled with anger and bitterness. But suddenly he was changing his attitude and it became softer and he was more confused and hurt than angry, just like Donna had said. His letters after that were begging for forgiveness and telling her that he had no idea why he wouldn’t show up for their date, when that’s all he really wanted. That made her cry so much she had to put the letters away for a moment.   
  
Then she came to the last one.   
  
 _Dearest Rose,  
  
I get it. You will not write back, no matter how much I write to you. And I can see that you are no longer coming to the house, because none of my letters have been touched by anyone but me.   
  
I don’t know what I can say or do to make you forgive me. I would do anything, anything you asked, for you to write just one more letter, telling me that you’re okay. I don’t even care if you tell me your engaged, or moving, or that you are now traveling into space, I just want to know that you’re okay.   
  
But I also want you to know something, and maybe you have guessed it, but maybe you haven’t. I’m in love with you, Rose Tyler. I have been for a very long time. I realized it the night we met, the night we danced under the stars and the night we kissed. That was the best night of my life, and nothing, nothing could ever compare to that moment.   
  
I hope that one day we will meet, and that you will be happy. Because, if nothing else, do that for me, Rose. Have a good life. Have a fantastic life. You deserve it.   
  
All my love,   
Jonathon_  
  
  
Rose cried for what seemed like forever. She had to do something. She couldn’t just sit back and have Jonathon die, not when she knew the truth. Not when she could change the past.   
  
She ran to her car for some paper and a pen. She had to write one more letter. And she hoped to God that he’ll get it.   
  
~*~   
  
It was 30 June 2013, and it could not get any hotter. Jonathon and Donna were walking down Piccadilly Circus, having just stopped by to see Jack for lunch. Jack was still secretive about what it was that he actually did, but he always managed to get time off for lunch, especially when his two best mates stopped by.   
  
Full from lunch made both Jonathon and Donna walk in a bit of a daze. Though it wasn’t the food that made him appear as though he was a million miles away. There was something else.   
  
Donna was telling him about Lee, and the vacation they were planning on taking together. Jonathon was trying to pay attention, or at least, he tried to. But he knew this day. Knew it well. And just like it was predicted, he looked over at the statue in the middle of the area, and there was Rose, sitting next to a ginger, laughing at something that was just said. He stopped walking and just looked at her.   
  
She was so close to him, so very close, but he couldn’t talk to her. Because he knew.   
  
Donna realized that he stopped walking about three steps later and went back over to him.   
  
“What’s going on, dumbo? Why did you stop walking?”   
  
He shook his head and said nothing. He thought about the letter in his pocket. The one he carried everywhere with him. He didn’t need to look at it now; he had read it so many times he could recite it in his dreams.   
  
 _Jonathon–_  
  
I know why you didn’t come to our date.   
  
On 30 June 2013, I was having lunch with Amy on Piccadilly Circus when we saw a horrible car accident. Apparently a van ran a red light and hit a bus, and this poor man was caught in the middle.   
  
It was you. You were killed that day. Donna was with you. She told me what happened.   
  
Please, if you are there, don’t come to me. Stay with Donna. Please, don’t come anywhere near me.   
  
I love you, Jonathon. I love you very, very much. And when I found out you were killed, it nearly broke me. I could not sit by and let that happen again. So please, do not come to me. Stay with Donna on the sidewalk.  
  
Wait for me. I know I have no right asking that out of you, but please. Wait for me.   
  
Wait with me.   
  
I’m at the house now. On 9 September 2013. Come to the house.   
  
I’m here.  
  
~*~   
  
Rose fell to her knees, the tears pouring down her face. She tried to catch her breath, but she couldn’t. Every breath was one moment longer that she didn’t hear anything. Not one letter came through the mailbox. Not one word. She didn’t want to think the he didn’t receive her last note, but she hoped to God that he did.   
  
She sobbed more and more, the tears coming down at an alarming rate.   
  
Suddenly, she heard it. The squeak the flag on the mailbox going down. She stood up, not caring that her knees were now filthy, and slowly opened the mailbox. Her letter was gone. He got it. Jonathon got the note.   
  
But what was he intending to do with it? Was he still going to go see her, walk into the traffic, or was he going to wait the three years and meet her at the house? He mind raced, trying to figure out what he could possibly be thinking.   
  
The sound of an old engine caught her ears, and she looked around, wondering what in God’s name could make that horrible sound. A dark blue car, a color almost like the house but a few shades different, was pulling up to the house. Rose walked slowly to the car and watched as a man got out. He was a tall man, with brown hair that stood up at all angles and a lean body. He was wearing a brown pinstriped suit and Converses were on his feet.   
  
And Rose knew exactly who it was.   
  
They walked over to each other, the space between them getting shorter, but at the same time longer, if that was possible. Finally, after what felt like forever, they were standing in front of each other and she said two words.   
  
“You waited.”   
  
Jonathon cupped her by her neck with one hand and pulled her closer to him. They finally, after years of waiting, kissed. And it was the most glorious kiss in the universe. It held all of their hopes and dreams, but it also symbolized how very long they waited for each other.   
  
Rose put her arms around his neck, as his hands slid down her sides and around her back. She almost crushed his lips, kissing so forcibly, but he didn’t mind as he was kissing her with the same enthusiasm.   
  
Their lips met and pulled apart, again and again and again. It almost became like a dance for them, to pull apart, just the tiniest of bits, only to meet again, this time with much more force.   
  
After a while, they leaned their foreheads against each other and smiled, each giving a thousand watt smile.   
  
“I was worried you didn’t get my note,” Rose said, gently touching the lapels of his suit.   
  
“I did. And I saw you. That day, I mean. But I didn’t go over to you. I didn’t cross the street. Obviously,” he grinned.   
  
She pulled back a little and looked up at him. “I can’t believe you’re here. Really and truly here. It almost feels like a dream.”   
  
“Well, if you’re dreaming, than so am I.”   
  
She grinned and put her head on his shoulder. “But it is the best kind of dream.”   
  
“Yes, it is,” he said as he put his hands tighter around her.   
  
They held each other, neither wanting to let go. Suddenly they heard a dog barking and looked over to see a very familiar dog coming towards them.   
  
“K-9!” Jonathon yelled happily, letting go of Rose and bending down to bet the dog behind its ears. “Oh, I haven’t seen you for years!”   
  
“Really?” Rose asked.   
  
“Ever since I got your last letter, not the one telling me about my death. The one before that. He left me.” Jonathon stood up and placed his arm around Rose’s shoulder. “Of course, I now have everything I’ve ever wanted.”  
  
She leaned into him, giving the biggest grin. “Everything?”   
  
“Oh yes. Of course, I could always get a house. Just to finish the package, you see.”   
  
Rose looked behind her and saw her house, the best house in the universe, sitting there waiting for their adventure to begin. Together.   
  
Looking back at Jonathon, she gave a smile and said, “You know, I always did love this house.”   
  
“Really?” he asked seriously, before giving a grin. “Never would have guessed.” He gave her a quick kiss on the lips.   
  
“And how long would you like to live in this house, Rose Tyler?” He asked as they walked over to the house, his arm still around her shoulder and her arm around his waist.   
  
“Forever.”   
  
“And with me?”   
  
She looked at him. “Always.”   
  
He grinned before stopping in front of the door and saying, “You might need to write that down for me.” 


End file.
